


Paranoia

by runastorm



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Akumatized Marinette, Angst, Anxiety, Blood and Injury, Coma, Dismemberment, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Identity Reveal, Major Character Death but for like 2 minutes, Major Character Injury, Mild Gore, Minor Character Death, Panic Attacks, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-24 03:59:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6140844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runastorm/pseuds/runastorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Chat reckless and over-protective demeanour almost costs him his life, Ladybug secretly pays the price so his newfound scars remain simply that - only a shadow of a wound. She doesn't regret it, and if ever confronted with the same decision once more, she'd do it again in a heartbeat. But consequences are high, and now she's forever doomed as a very exposed and defenseless prey of very familiar purple-black butterflies.</p><p>Or: Chat almost dies while trying to save Ladybug, and she secretly gives away her immunity against akumas as a price to save his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Of choice and consequence

**Author's Note:**

> Please bear in mind this fanfic will follow something important (which I'm honestly not sure if it's just a headcanon of mine or not): Miraculous Holders can't be turn into akumas because they are immune.
> 
> That being said, I hope you enjoy! Comments and constructive critisism are always welcome, and I apologize for my poor English beforehand, since this fic is unbeta'd and English is not my first language and all that jazz.

Chat Noir had shielded Ladybug from an akuma’s attack, as of usual during almost half their battles. She had been angry regarding his recklessness and stupidity, but what’s done it’s done. The cat is thrown far away and does not come back, even after she defeats the akuma alone.

In worry, she goes after him, only to find his body unattended and laying on the ground a few blocks away, a great wound filling his chest and flooding blood until there’s a puddle of red under him.

Even after using her “Miraculous Cure” and making Paris return to normal, Chat’s wounds do not heal. Tikki says that this had happen with very few of the previous chosen ones ( _When the akuma is especially aggressive or special_ , she explains), and the damage is most likely permanent – which means he cannot be cured by her. And considering the gravity of his wounds and the way he seems to be _barely breathing_ , taking her partner to the hospital isn’t an option, which means –

He will _die_.

Finally, it strikes her.

She can’t lose him. Absolutely cannot. But then a cruel thought that frequently haunted Marinette whenever she (even if for a brief moment) allowed Chat to take too much of space in her chest comes to slap her across the face: _Adrien_. Truly, the sole reason she'd never given Chat Noir a chance in romance was because of her infatuation towards her caring, handsome, sun-kissed classmate. But now, facing the danger that threats to take her partner forever, it is crystal clear she'd give up on Adrien a thousand times before even considering the mere thought of turning her back on that partnership.

Suddenly, a wave of great panic splashes across her features, her heart skips a beat and she finds it very difficult to breathe. Marinette’s mind swirls and she regrets many things.

And so, she begs.

Ladybug has his body – almost lifeless – in her arms as she does it. There are tears in her eyes and she cries out she's willing to do anything. _Anything,_ please, _please. Please, not him. **Anyone but him**. Don't let him die. I can't do this. Not without him._

Tikki’s still inside her earrings by then. The horror makes Marinette’s body shake violently and it’s very clear what might become of her if Chat Noir’s life is lost now. Said pair of heroes have been forced apart by fate before – during other incarnations, that is. However, such fear and devastation regarding a simple _idea_ had never stricken a Ladybug this strongly before, and the red kwami is scared on her behalf. Terrified, even.

So she offers an option.

 _The solution comes with a heavy price_ , says Tikki.

 _Anything,_ Marinette whispers.

Her kwami mumbles warnings and instructions. She barely hears any of it.

 

 

And then, she awakes.

At first, Marinette thinks of it as a dream. A nightmare. Her head is spinning, her cheeks are warm and stained with tears, her mouth is dry and her legs are wobbly as she tries to get up from her bed, but _yes, just a dream_.

 _It's over now_ , she tries to convince herself.

The more she repeats it, the least convincing it sounds.

It still sits with her for a couple of minutes. The idea of Chat Noir dying. She wonders how it got inside her head; if it was subconscious, if she had heard a passerby or maybe a classmate talking about it somewhere, if it was some terrible joke he’d made to make her head work in a weird way. The mere memory of wounds and blood and the color of his lifeless skin send shivers down her spine and she wants to forget all of it.

Well, either way, she’s sure she won’t be sharing all of this with him. Marinette is positive that, instead of being worried about her civilian self’s nocturnal habits, he’ll most likely try to be smug about it. “Oh! So desperate with the mere thought of the day of my death? Worry not. I shall be with you forever, My Lady,” or something along those lines. As cheesy as possible. Maybe some pun or two will even roll off his tongue, depending on how distracted and invested on trying to swoon her he actually is.

She catches herself smiling fully, and wonders when she’d started thinking so fondly of him.

Marinette takes her pajamas shirt off as she walks down the steps from the upper floor of her room, mind still in haze. She has to change her clothes and get ready for school, despite being only a few minutes after 5am, or maybe even taking a shower first. She feels sweaty and gross and still a little shaken. Maybe that will keep her mind otherwise occupied. And it all seemed like a very good idea until she took off the black tank top she kept underneath as she passed the big mirror in her bathroom. Marinette’s eyes grew wide at the sight of the very visible and yet somewhat faint scar that seemed to cut her chest in half.

It was set diagonally from her right clavicle until just below her left breast, the mark a few tones lighter than her skin. A little flabbergasted, she touches it with her fingertips, and through touch she recognizes it as a true scar. It wasn't fake. This wasn’t a realistic make-up scar someone did on her while she was asleep. It wasn’t one of Alya’s scary pranks.

It was _real_.

Despite the shock, Marinette can faintly recall the shape of the hit that almost took the life of the Chat Noir from her dreams. A sharp and deep diagonal cut, shoulder to chest.

_This isn't a dream._

Marinette brings her suddenly numb fingers to rub roughly against her face while the other hand covers her mouth. She fights back a scream, but tears fall from her eyes all the same. She feels sick.

**It wasn't a dream.**

Still crying, Marinette runs back to her room and quickly checks her computer. A simple visit to the Ladyblog makes it all ten times more real.

There’s a small article with a single picture about an akuma attack from what it seemed to be from the day before. Hawkmoth’s puppet had been defeated once more. She was in her Ladybug form and alongside Chat Noir, giving the iconic fist-pump while posing to the picture as well.

She didn't remember any of it. But it was there.

Marinette had changed Chat's fate.

The baker’s daughter falls to her knees, suddenly feeling weak and helpless and _stupid_. She lets out a broken cry and bites her lower lip, still trying to not wake up the entire house despite being in the middle of a mental breakdown. Chat Noir valued her life more than anyone else did, probably being left behind by only her parents; he constantly threw himself in the face of danger for her sake and, incidentally, it was what brought her to her current state. Nonetheless, if he knew the sort of deal she had agreed to, he’d probably be devastated and disappointed and angry out of his mind.

He would most likely feel like punching her square in the face and, given the situation, Marinette couldn’t exactly blame him for it.

She felt guilty, among other things. But if ever confronted with the same choice again, Marinette is sure her answer wouldn’t change. Even as her stomach twisted in pain, she managed a small smile hidden by the hair stuck on her face and the tears that just kept coming. The tug on her pajama pants and the image of a very concerned Tikki made her sob again.

In the darkness of her room, now sitting on the floor next to her work table, she tries to keep track of the confusing and almost inconsistent emotions that flood through her.

Relief. Sorrow. Tiredness. Anger. Uncertainty. Guilt. Anxiety.

Despite Tikki’s words being rather fuzzy on the dream, she can remember them clearly now. It makes her throat hurt and she wants to cry again. In all honestly, it would probably be all she’d do for the rest of the week – if the act alone didn’t put her in a rough spot, that is.

When she realizes it, her fingers are smoothing the scar on her chest almost endearingly. Marinette wonders if it will become a habit.

“Go take you shower, Marinette. You will feel better,” Tikki suggests.

The girl offers her small friend a half-smile before nodding weakly. She gets up and tries not to think about it all, but it’s unavoidable.

 

 

_“If you truly wish to save him, you’ll have to pay a heavy price,” the kwami says sadly, silently, as if in shame. “Since his life is of great value to you, the cost will be also high to pay. The consequences will all fall on you.”_

_“Anything,” Ladybug – Marinette – repeats it like a mantra._

_She hears Tikki sighing heavily, seeming relieved yet extremely concerned at the same time. She’s worried, too._

_“The center’s to take, the people’s to keep, and the protector’s to give,” her voice is bitter as she says it. “His scar. The secret. And your immunity to akumas.”_

_Marinette feels the air being punched out of her lungs, her head is spinning but she takes no longer than a single beat before she responds,_

_“ **Anything**.”_

 

 

Just before Marinette steps into her classroom a few hours later, she feels at least three times worse.

In fact, she's pretty sure if she was ever seen naked by a stranger, she'd feel less uncomfortable and flustered than she is now. Because even if the sight of lined tables and chairs and students is obviously familiar to her, she can’t remember the last time she’d felt so cornered in her life. Her mother was scary when angry, Alya was really fearsome even if ever compared to a wild beast and akuma fights in general were a little frightening – but nothing could compare to the wide range of possibilities in front of her.

When she accepted the duty and the privilege of being Ladybug, Marinette had been blessed with immunity against Hawmoth’s akumas; this was to ensure Paris’ superheroes were always in the clear to protect the city and its people. But along her many years of possessing said secret identity, she’d seen it all. Citizens could be akumatized over the smallest of things and, sometimes, they could cause a lot of damage.

 _Irreversible damage_ , she thought.

She couldn’t be irresponsible. Marinette being in the evil’s hands was something, but her alter ego being akumatized was entirely different.

When she blinks her eyes, Ladybug was out in the streets again, Chat Noir’s body between her arms and there was blood _all over_ – No, no.

She could do this.

The petite girl licks her lips and gives her best smile as she walks in. But she’s spacing out so hard that her cheerful ‘Good morning’ reaches every single person present – and that includes Adrien Agreste. The fact she’d been able to send his way a proper (and coherent) greeting without batting an eye was so groundbreaking that the boy himself raised his eyebrows in a questioning manner. He sends a weird look to Nino before returning to Marinette with a polite smile.

“Good morning, Marinette,” he says.

She nods back and takes her seat behind him. Alya exchanges a few whispers with her boyfriend in the front and her phone buzzes angrily once or twice before she finally turns to her friend and asks her the millionaire question,

“ _What the hell was that?!_ ”

Marinette blinks confusedly before asking, “What?”

“ _You!_ You spoke to Adrien and wished him a _good morning_ like a _normal human being_ for once and – ! Wait. Did something happen?”

“I, uh. Yes? And no?”

Her friend mutters something unintelligible before finally saying, “I can’t _believe_ you.”

And for the first time for the last 12 hours or so, Marinette is lucky, because her professor walks into the classroom and urges the students to grab their textbooks of Ancient Civilizations as she sets her own things down the table. Still, Alya sends her the look of ‘This isn’t over’ and ‘We’ll talk later,’ and it reminds her once again that luck, as many other things, is fleeting.

As if she wasn’t well aware of that fact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for the first chapter! I'm not entirely sure how many chapters this fanfiction will have, but I hope you'll bear with me until this is all over. And again, comments and constructive critisism are always welcome!  
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> (( Come to scream with me at http://runa-storm.tumblr.com/ ))


	2. Hiding in the shadows

That night, she doesn’t show up for patrol.

Marinette doesn’t even try to come up with a good excuse, doesn’t call Chat Noir through their superheroes’ phone to warn him about it, nor she looks Tikki’s way to seek for reassurance.

She simply doesn’t.

The kwami seems a little disturbed and sometimes fidgets uncomfortably inside her bag, but if she ever had anything to say at all, she had the decency to offer Marinette what she needed the most.

Peace. Quietness. Time to think.

 

 

Differently to what she imagined at first (because sometimes she can’t help on being stupidly optimistic), it doesn’t get any easier, but just progressively worse.

The small (yet seemingly infinite) list of things she had to keep track of in order to be truthful to her deal with Tikki kept ringing inside her ears. She had made many questions to the kwami after she came back from school on the day she’d left the nightmare; many of them were left unanswered, but Marinette knew the most important  _do_ s and  _don’t_ s anyway, so it shouldn’t be a problem, right?

 _Oh_ , how wrong she was.

Alya seemed to be growing impatient towards the apparent ‘strange’ way Marinette had been acting in school and she had gone to the extent of  _talking to her parents_  about it. Now, they’d show up in her room frequently – during their breaks, very early in the morning and extremely late at night, or just whenever the bakery seemed to be running a little slower than usual.

This gave her very little privacy – close to none, actually.

 _Keep the secret from everyone else_ , Tikki had said. _This is the second price._   _Otherwise the spell will break and it will be all for not. And you will have to bear the remaining consequences, forever._

Apparently, Miraculous Holders and their kwami were the only exception to that rule, but it didn’t make things any better.

Before, the consequences on being found out as Ladybug were fixable. A long discussion and some broken feelings would solve it, depending on who it was. Now, it could  _cost a life_.

Marinette can’t let it be all in vain.

Not Chat’s sacrifice. Not her own.

She touches the scar again. Thinks about her kitty’s smiling face.

It gives her strength.

It’s the third day after the nightmare, and Marinette has been going through a mental calendar just like that. Alya brags about the fact Ladybug hasn’t showed up in almost four days (that is, when she isn’t trying to make her friend spill something,  _anything_  about her delicate state of mind). Hopefully she’ll go out her alter ego tomorrow, and the day after Alya will have something else to talk about that isn’t her sudden lack of awkwardness  - which, according to the taller girl, just makes everything ten times weirder.

She catches Adrien stealing glances in her general direction in the middle of class at least every ten minutes. It doesn’t bother her nearly as much as it would have a few days earlier, because now the only thing she can think about is her partner in fighting crime.

And yet, she can’t bring herself to go see him.

She will, though. Tomorrow. But that doesn’t make it easier.

Because the mental image of his limp body on her arms and his blood in her hands still hunt the back of her eyelids; every time she closes her eyes for too long, it’s there. Like a movie she’s forced to watch over and over again. Marinette hasn’t slept decently since then and eating anything at all became a rough mission to accomplish; she’s pretty sure she’s going to end up sick, in more ways than one.

When class is over and students are dismissed from school, Adrien and Nino exchange a couple of meaningful looks. Alya gets up from her chair and gives extra effort on looking especially apologetic.

“Sorry, Mari, I have plans with Nino today. Can you walk home by yourself?”

She almost retorts with something witty, but decides to nod back instead. It’s simpler this way and it will cost her a lot less of explanation. Marinette is rapidly gathering her stuff into her schoolbag and is about to flee the room before someone casts a shadow over her table. When she looks up, it’s Adrien. Her eyes widen slightly and when she tries to call out to Alya for some help, the girl is long gone, the image of her friend’s back with her arm hooked to Nino’s in the distance. Marinette immediately recognizes it as a set up, and she feels a little sorry for Adrien being dragged into this.

“Marinette?” the blonde calls out.

Her eyes are back to him. Saying he looks uncomfortable would be an understatement, but she can relate. So instead of just shooting apologies his way and turning her back to him, she smiles.

“Yes, Adrien?”

“Well, I, uh,” his eyes dart to different directions before he scratches shyly the back of his neck, grass-green jewels eventually back to her face. “Are you okay? You’ve been a little off lately.”

 _Really_ , she almost says, but manages to bite it back on the last second.

“Oh, I’m fine, really! Probably just your imagination.”

He doesn’t seem convinced.

The girl gets up from her seat and grabs the strap of her bag.

“Alya is worried, too.”

“She worries too much.”

Before Marinette’s out of his reach, his right hand is on her shoulder. Adrien looks legitimately worried, if not a bit frustrated. A shiver runs down her spine and she wants to cry again.

“Marinette.”

 _Make things easy for me, will you_ , she prays.

He doesn’t.

“I’m worried, as well.”

Her throat seems to close and she can almost feel her face flush, but not due embarrassment.

She’s almost  _crying_. In a  _classroom_.

_In front of Adrien._

Because she legitimately fucked up and she’s not exactly sure how she’s supposed to confront Chat Noir on the next patrol, and this all transform her into a small pile os stress. Marinette had promised herself she’d grow some courage until tomorrow’s nighttime to be able to face the one who protected her, but the fact she’ll have to keep such things from her partner terrifies her. This isn’t just about secret identities anymore. It’s about a deal that can easily compromise all they had built together, a reality that was turned into a mere dream but that remains a possibility.

Marinette shakes her head and purses her lips. This is just the beginning of things. She knows it will get much worse in a few weeks and months and  _years_ , if the first half of the week was anything to go by. Getting used to the crashing feelings inside her head must be her top priority now.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” she replies with a confident smile, trying to make the lie sound as truer as possible to her own ears. Maybe that will comfort her. “I’m fine.”

Adrien frowns. He’s still doubtful and she  _knows_ , but the boy is too considerate to push the subject further. He gives her a light pat on the shoulder and says, “Alright, then. But I’m here if you ever need me, okay?”

It sounds prefabricated.

She’s fine with it.

“Okay.”

 

 

She walks home alone.

Marinette managed to stop her tears before reaching the bakery. After greeting her worried parents, she claims a terrible migraine and goes to her room with nothing but a random pastry as food. Her mother knows she’s been skipping meals, but never pushes it too far. (Surprisingly so.) They leave almost right after her arrival to a dinner to celebrate their wedding anniversary, although she doubts they will be enjoying it much. And it’s all her fault.

When she’s finally left to the security and familiarity of her room, she starts crying again. Tikki flies out of her purse and hides somewhere among the cushions on her divan, most likely to give her some space.

Everyone close to her is worried sick (hell, even  _Adrien_  checked up on her), chances are her parents are having even less sleep than herself, the Ladyblog hasn’t updated in half a week, she has been a shitty friend to Tikki, Ladybug left the city on its own and she had no inspiration regarding designs since this all begun to happen. Schoolwork hasn’t been the easiest thing, either; she didn't even want to think about the upcoming week of exams. All she wanted to do was sleep and cry her eyes out.

And then, there was the worst of all.

She’s in love with Chat Noir.

A deeper, more profound kind of love. The one which can only be build with time, trust and companionship, so pure and simple and  _natural_ that it seems strange to even consider its absence. He’s her friend, her partner, they are pretty much strangers to each other and yet, they know one another in a way no one else does. It’s a little of everything, and she’s helplessly in love.

It’s kind of stupid to admit it just now, after he spent a good few years pinning after her without any kind of reciprocity. Her feelings are a little all over the place and it’s fucking scary, but it doesn’t make her guilt falter, nor she likes him any less.

She  _loves_  him.

And she can’t tell him.

Because if she were to tell him and he ever returned her feelings (which might as well not happen, since Marinette was never sure if his love was sincere or not, even though his  _loyalty_  was unquestionable), her guilt over what she’d done would consume her. It hasn’t been a week yet and it was already getting under her skin, but if they did so much as confess their love to each other, to hug or kiss or  _more_ , it would make things much worse. They worked together as a team, and yet, she had put everything at risk so she could save his life. And despite Ladybug – Marinette,  _Marinette_ – being the only one to place the blame, the chances he’d forgive her were still very high.

Chances he’d forgive himself?

Not so much.

So she cries, and instead of begging for his life, now she begs for her own peace of mind, for lull.

She doesn’t know how much time had passed since her arrival to the room, but it’s already dark when she hears someone whispering. When Marinette looks around her, she’s still alone. It’s a voice she’d never heard before, but it seems familiar all the same. What said person says to her remains unknown because he's still too silent, but she can feel something build up inside her chest. It makes it difficult to breathe and Tikki starts to call out to her.

Her kwami’s voice is also a blur, and Marinette wonders if it’s the man inside her head who is too quiet or if her world had simply been put inside some sort of aquarium. It’s when she catches a flying bug with the corner of her eye that her stomach drops.

A butterfly.

Purple and black, cracked patterns on its wings.

“ _No_ ,” she whispers back.

The voice gets a little clearer, the butterfly gets closer.

“I am Hawkmoth. You are - ”

“ **No!** ”

She backs away until the back of her head bangs against the corner of her work table and the bug suddenly shies away from her. Marinette repeats the word inside her head and through her vocal chords. At first it’s nothing but a mumble, barely audible; half a minute later, she’s almost screaming. She wants the man’s voice gone. She wants to be left the fuck  _alone_  –

“Marinette?”

Now, it’s someone else.

Not herself, not Tikki or the cunning villain using wings to corrupt lost souls in Paris. It’s a completely different voice, yet one she knows too well, one she didn’t expect to hear this soon.

It’s Chat Noir.

He’s crouched down beside her, face twisted in great concern as his claws dig gently on her shoulders. Marinette’s cheeks are stained with tears, her throat is kind of sore and she feels exposed.

 _And exposed, and exposed, and_   ** _exposed_** _._

She isn’t ready to face him yet, but it doesn’t look he’s aware of that fact. Her eyes dart nervously around the room, looking for purple and black in the sea of pink and dots.

Marinette can’t find any, but it doesn’t make her feel relieved.

 _It’s hiding._ **_It’s waiting._ **

His hands touch her face, trying to make her look his way again. It’s endearing and he feels warm, but it doesn’t make her feel better.

“Marinette, are you alright? What’s going on?”

 **_It’s still there._ ** _It wants her._

“ _Marinette!_ ”

Feeling her head spin, she trembles. Her arms are weak and wobbly but she still tries to push Chat away, looking anywhere but him. But not because she wants to avoid him, not now; she still has something to find, something else to focus on.

 _Where is it?_   ** _Where is it?_ **

She can hear a broken, soundless cry begin to build on the back of her throat. Marinette is panicking and crying  _desperately_  and then, Chat slaps her across the face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that sure went to hell real quick.
> 
> Initially I planned to update once a week (or when I had the following chapter ready to go), but since I'm a piece of shit I ended up posting the second part while none of that happened yet. Yeah, yeah. You can judge me all you want.
> 
> And as some of you may have noticed, I've finally decided how many chapters this fanfiction will have! I've already summarized the events of all of them and, well, let's just say the die was cast??? I'm so sorry.
> 
> If anything at all caused you confusion, please let me know in the comments below! I'll try to explain it as best as I can without giving any spoilers. I haven't written in a long time and I understand 100% if chapters come out as an incoherent gross mess.
> 
> That being said, thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I'll be probably seeing you guys next week (if I behave, that is). Again, comments and constructive critisism are always welcome!
> 
> (( Come to scream with me at http://runa-storm.tumblr.com/ ))


	3. See-through promises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was a bitch to write.  
> I hope you enjoy!

There’s the lingering pain on her cheek, the tears in her eyes and the sharp intake of breath on Chat’s end.

Her mind feels clearer now, but it still hurts.

“Shit, I’m _so_ —”

“If you apologize, I’m kicking you out.”

The boy swallows visibly and his mouth opens and closes repeatedly, voice apparently lost somewhere on his mind. The reason as to why he slapped her was probably because he was freaking out, as well. He probably didn’t even think twice before doing it and, right now, he looks like a puppy in the rain. A _very concerned_ puppy in the rain.

It doesn’t suit him.

He’s on his knees next to her and Marinette is still sitting on the ground next to her work table when she finally clears her throat to speak.

“I was freaking out. You snapped me out of it.”

He releases her other shoulder, hands falling to his sides and clenching in fists, “I _slapped_ you.”

“Still.”

The doubtful look he gives her seems familiar, but she can’t quite put her finger on it. Marinette wants to cup her stinging cheek with her hand, maybe massage it a bit to ease the pain, but she knows it will make Chat feel worse – so, she doesn’t.

“What are you doing here, kitty cat?”

Chat Noir props his hands on his hips, assuming the confident pose that is usual of him, a smirk that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I thought you were thank _furr_ for the slap?”

Marinette groans, “Don’t push it.”

He flinches and his hands fall from his hips; Chat finally lets himself sit beside her, legs crossed. Now, he looks like a very concerned puppy in the rain that has just been kicked in the guts. She cringes on the inside.

“Sorry,” he says as his eyes dart away from her.

He’s so out of character it hurts.

She wonders if it’s her fault.

“Are you okay?”

A gasp.

“I should be the one asking you that!” he suddenly blurts out, throwing his hands to the air. “Princess, you were screaming! I was _feline_ very concerned for a moment there.”

Marinette wants to punch him in the face for making puns right after such a delicate situation, but he never had that much of tact on the first place – at least not _usually_ , anyway. She kind of hugs herself and rubs one of her arms, trying not to look crazy or as uncomfortable as she feels. Chat Noir still has his green eyes on her, watching intently. The silence lingers for a few seconds and he’s about to say something before she interrupts.

“Why are you here?”

Chat crosses his arms, his voice acquiring shades of an accusatory tone as he says, “Someone from your class might have mentioned to me you’ve been acting weird.” He shrugs and then the smile is back in full strength, albeit still seeming a little concerned. The cat makes a few exaggerate gestures before flexing his arms and striking a triumphant pose. “As your knight in shining armor, it is my duty to make sure you’re alright!”

 _‘… Shit_. _’_

He came to _check_ on her.

Suddenly, her chest feels too free and unbearably constricted at the same time. Marinette flushes to the roots of her hair and her brain is spinning with egoistical wishes, guilt and affection. _You like him more than you let on_ , her own voice whispers quietly into her mind. _You love him_. _You should_ tell _him_ —

Focus.

“Who told you?”

 _‘Wrong answer_. _’_

He gives her a stern look and Marinette realizes she should’ve _denied_ it – like she have been doing with everyone else. The girl bites her tongue and scooches back what might’ve been a few steps, trying to come up with a good excuse or even gather the courage simply laugh it off. But he doubles said distance in her direction and her mind goes blank. His hand finds her elbow as if in guarantee she won’t run away, despite both of them still being sat down on her floor.

“Does it matter?” he prompts.

She doesn’t know what to say to that.

The girl frowns and fidgets uncomfortably where she is, chest wavering as she tries to calm herself down. _‘This shouldn’t be happening,’_ she realizes. _‘He shouldn’t be here, worrying about Marinette, about me. Not right now.’_

“Where’s Ladybug?”

Chat snorts, “Well, _that_ certainly doesn’t matter right now.”

She wants to hide, to run away from the entire world and especially from _him_ , but as if reading her mind, his clawed hand finds hers, digits caressing her palm gently. Marinette can feel the tears burning in her eyes again, but somehow, this time isn’t due sheer despair, but relief.

Above all painful and confusing things, she’s glad he’s here.

“Marinette, tell me what’s going on,” he tries again, the free hand reaching her stinging cheek with only a shadow of a touch, careful not to hurt her further. “Please.”

He sounds so _genuine_ it physically hurts.

“ _Oh_ ,” she whimpers, suddenly propping her knees on the ground to be able to reach for him. “Oh, _Chat_.”

Her arms circle his waist and Marinette buries her face into his collarbone, forehead resting against his shoulder. She can feel his body tensing for a brief moment, but on the next second he’s embracing her, one hand making reassuring patterns on her back as the other caresses her nape gently. Chat is so warm and kind and _welcoming_ that she isn’t able to bite back her broken sob in time. The sound makes him tighten his grip on her and then, his lips are on her hair.

Marinette finally lets the tears roll down her cheeks, and for the rest of his visit, Chat Noir doesn’t press her for answers any further.

 

 

When she awoke, she felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Marinette could still heart Chat Noir’s smooth voice whispering sweet nothings in her ear and feel his reassuring touches against her skin. It wasn’t fair of her to make him worry about her state, but she can’t bring herself to feel bad about it.

Tikki is sleeping beside her, and her bliss only lasts a second longer. Because no matter how wrapped between the sheets she is, what if someone had _seen_ her? What if her mother or father saw her kwami and jumped into conclusions – the _right_ conclusions?

Chat Noir could be dead right now.

And if he’s not, there’s just a giant chance he’ll end up having said destiny by Marinette’s hands, even if it’s indirectly.

Dread washes through her, her stomach drops and suddenly she can’t feel her toes. The blue eyes dart across the room, to search butterflies, to look for good hiding places for Tikki, to check if her parents or anyone else are nowhere to be seen because she’ll have to hide, will have to –

There’s a note.

On the parapet, the spot closest to her bed. A bright-green sticky note. Her hand is trembling but it’s enough to snatch the piece of paper and bring it to her for close inspection. It’s written in black, the calligraphy seems very rushed but somehow she’s able to make everything out.

 _‘Princess, I hope you had a nice rest. I shall return later so we can talk better. Stay well,’_ it said, followed by a small and ugly drawing of a pawprint.

She’s smiling again, the free hand making way through her clothes so she can touch the scar on her chest.

It’s downward confusing to wake up like this, nearing a heart attack in one moment and, on the other, being graced by a warm and comforting feeling. It’s also very dangerous now that she thinks about it, considering her position.

Tikki stirs against her. Marinette gets up, careful not to crush her small friend. She approaches the edge of the floor she’s in, eyes looking for something between her belongings or on the ground below.

She doesn’t find it.

_But she **knows** it’s there. _

 

Marinette doesn’t want to go.

But she promised – she promised herself she would. Besides, Chat would probably throw a fit if Ladybug didn’t show her face for the fourth day in a row, so instead of listening to her never ceasing suspicion that there’s something, _someone_ after her, she transforms into her superhero persona (which, for the first time ever, doesn’t make her feel safer or more confident) and rushes to Notre Dame.

It’s 10PM on the dot when she arrives, but she’s still alone. The girl wonders if the cat decided to slack off only because she hadn’t been around for the last few days, but the thought immediately vanishes as she hears a familiar voice calling her from the distance.

_‘He’s alive.’_

Ladybug spins on her heels only to be graced with the boy who consoled her the night before. She wonders if he has any idea Marinette is actually his partner in fighting crime, and as never before she finally considers telling him the truth – but if she ever did, said revelation would have to come with many others.

She’s not ready for most of them.

_‘But he’s well. He’s alive.’_

“Ladybug!” he’s finally in front of her, a smile of sheer relief splashed across his face. “I was worried! You didn’t show up for, what, four days?”

Crossing her arms, she tries to look smug. It seems that he’s the only person able to ground her fears, and again, she’s glad he’s by her side.

“Miss me much, Chaton?”

“My Lady,” he bows and takes her hand, bringing her knuckles to his lips. “I can’t even tell you how much.”

This time, she expects the contact. Craves for it.

When he kisses her hand, she tries not to smile too much.

“Oh, but I’m sure you’ve found something to distract yourself with, kitty cat.”

He seems to stop himself short after her response, but then he’s shaking his head, as if to push the unknown thought away.

“Well, I—” green eyes break her gaze, looking at her hand and playing momentarily with her long fingers. “LB, do you remember Marinette?”

_‘Crap.’_

She tries, tries _so_ hard not to panic. But then her throat seems to have gone dry, her head spins and her body fidgets out of her control. Ladybug pulls her hand away from his grasp, feeling all her limbs tremble slightly.

“A-Ah. The girl from the Evillustrator case, yes? What about her?”

The boy purses his lips and looks away, sighing.

“I don’t think she’s feeling very well.”

He’s looks dejected.

 _‘You’ve made your partner, no, your_ friend _worry.’_

Her voice seems to falter for a moment and she swallows thickly. “Chat, no one has a completely happy life. I’m sure she’s—”

_‘He’s going to find out about you. About the stupidity you’ve done.’_

“It’s different, this time,” he shakes his head. “I’m worried.”

_‘Once he knows Marinette is Ladybug, he won’t like you anymore. Neither of you.’_

“I know you like to take your duty as a superhero seriously sometimes, but she’s just a civilian, Chat.”

He just looks outward offended, then.

_‘He’ll never want to look your way again. You’ve failed him. You’ve—’_

“She isn’t _just_ a civilian to me, Ladybug.”

“O-Oh?” is all she manages to say.

Anything else, she’s sure her voice will crack.

Chat hums and shrugs, searching for her eyes again. “And I thought it was the same for you, since you even addressed me to protect her.”

She clears her throat and looks away because _God_ , this shouldn’t be happening. Marinette should’ve stayed at home, where she’s safe and undisturbed. Being upset by the smallest of things is no longer an option and the only thing she’s doing is painting a target on her back.

Because she’s allowing Chat to get to her.

_‘This shouldn’t be happening.’_

“She was being targeted by an akuma victim and I had knowledge of it. I couldn’t just ignore it.”

“And for that, I’m very grate _furr_ , My Lady!” he laughs contently. “It gave me the op _paw_ tunity to get to know her a little better.”

The memory of his warmth is still crystal clear. His voice whispering sweet nothings into her ear as he caressed her back as if she were something fragile, breakable but nonetheless precious to him.

Her chest hurts.

Surprisingly, his puns are not to blame, this time.

“Let’s get to the patrol, Chat. I should be going home soon.”

When she’s back at her house, she’s still crying as she transforms back into Marinette.

Her hands tremble when she locks the hatch behind her, rushing to close the curtains against the windows. Chat Noir was supposed to pay a visit tonight, if the note he left is anything to go by. But she doesn’t want to see him again. Not tonight. Not while she’s still a wreck.

She loves him, God. She loves him.

_‘What have I done?’_

Unfortunately, she hears him tapping against the trap door on her balcony before she can reach for the light switch.

His voice resonates from the outside and her body withers. Her right hand finds a way through her clothes and spot the scar on her chest, fingertips smoothing the skin endearingly as she tries to ease her breathing.

“Calm down,” she says it like a spell. “Calm down.”

Pushing the tears away, the girl unlocks the trap door.

Big and shinny lime-green eyes greet her and she chokes on nothing at all.

And then, she’s crying again.

“Marinette? Are you—”

“Shut up.”

_This isn’t fair on him._

**_This isn’t fair on him._ **

Right now, she can’t see it – no, because her eyes are closed and blurred by the stupid, _stupid_ tears –, but there is a lingering feeling on the back of her head, as if there’s a particular _something_ she’s failing to remember. On her house, inside her room, under the bed, right behind her shaking self, or maybe—

Under her skin?

Her nails start to scratch angrily on her free arm at the same time Chat comes closer, finally stepping inside her dimly lit room.

Marinette supposes he’s going to try to speak to her again, to say the right words and make a handful of attempts to calm her down, and a few seconds pass until she’s surprised by his protective warmth wrapping around her elbows, clothed fingers sending pleasant shivers through her as his claws prickle her skin.

“Stop that. You’ll hurt yourself.”

A pain that went by unnoticed suddenly is a little too much to the girl, her own nails yanking off some of the skin of her arm as she ceases the contact abruptly. His face twists into something she can’t quite put a finger on and she’s sure that, despite the fact a human nose can’t catch too faint of a smell, Chat is able to sense the shadow of blood on her arm.

“Sorry,” she mumbles back.

Her face is cast down, but it’s not like she doesn’t want to see him – it’s more like she doesn’t want to be seen. But Chat is having none of it, hands traveling agonizingly slow from her elbows to her shoulders, outlining the shape of her neck and jaw until they’re high enough to cup her cheeks, bringing her to look up to him. His thumbs caress the skin beside her nose and she is taken back to the night before, in which his embrace was something completely overwhelming and comforting and made her feel wanted, cherished, _welcome_. It was like a superpower. As if Chat could brush away shadows and make troubles and worries look far, far away.

That, however, did not make them disappear.

Marinette lets out a broken sob as he rests his forehead against hers, green eyes burning, _burning_ and desperately searching for something that seems lost into her blue, summery-sky ones. He’s too close and she can feel his breath fanning across her face and it’s utterly confusing, but it fills her with happiness nonetheless.

Her hands cover his own and the only thing on her mind is the desire to make him smile again.

“You don’t need to worry about me,” and she does try to sound convincing, this time.

He doesn’t seem to buy the act, though.

“It sure doesn’t looks like it.”

She opens and closes her mouth, voice almost lost. “Chat, please, I—”

“Princess,” he shakes his head. “You can’t fool your knight.”

Marinette smiles – _truly_ smiles – and lets out a small growl.

“I was kind of hoping for it.”

Chat scowls at that, but a beat later he returns her smile. They lock their eyes for a moment that seems infinite – that is, until a jolt runs down his body, making him blink repeatedly in an attempt to ground himself. He takes a few steps back, hands leaving her face; after working on the zipper of his pocket, he takes out a small black box.

“Here. I have a present for you.”

Her eyes flick from the object on his hand to his eyes, and then back again.

“… C-Chat?”

“You helped me before. With the Evillustrator and we, uh, we interacted a couple of times other than that. You’re very kind, and resourceful and—” he offers the small package with one hand, but props the other on the top half of it, face of an expectant child. “I figured I should show you my appreciation in this moment of need.”

He finally opens the box.

It’s a hair brooch.

Delicate. Elegant. Stunning.

Made with silver metal, a small branch with tiny leaves, three flowers of different sizes in faint-beige, shinning stones on each center and other places seemingly random, petite faint-gold pearls forming the pattern of a small leaf next of two of the flowers. It covered almost the entirety of her palm, and Marinette couldn’t tear her eyes from it.

“Oh, Chat,” she covered her mouth with her hand, eyes momentarily shimmering with stunned tears. “It’s _beautiful_.”

His fingers circle around the brooch, lowering the box on her cushions and reaching for her hair with his now free hand.

“For you.”

Marinette’s body gets rigid and blue orbs widen at the sole suggestion. He couldn’t _possibly mean_ —

“I-I can’t—”

Chat shakes his head dismissively almost immediately.

“ _Yes_ , you can.” Pulling her hair gently from one pigtails, he finally goes for the other, combing her now loose locks with his fingers. “Considering how refined it looks, I’m sure it was made especially for you, anyway. Please, accept this humble present – from your humble knight.”

He makes a low and improvised bun on the side of her head, the beautiful brooch keeping it all together. Marinette tries to bite down her stupid smile as her hand touches lightly the object on her hair.

She feels pretty.

She feels _loved_.

“… Not exactly humble, I’d say.”

One of his eyebrows shoot up, “Which of it?”

She smiles, “None of it.”

For some odd reason, he starts giggling. The absence of anything else makes her feel giddy until she joins him, their voices in unison and causing an uncontrollable mess at the same time. After a while, he seems to try to control his laugh to a stop, but the smile is still very evident on his face.

“Not quite appropriate for school, but,” long fingers catch the few still-loose locks of her hair, his tone absent-minded. “I thought it would look twice as pretty on you.”

He brings the ends of her hair closer to his face and plants his lips upon them. The kiss isn’t long, but also not short, either – it’s _careful_ , above all things, and Marinette can feel her face being set aflame.

“Looks like I was right.”

“T-Thank you,” she responds a little sheepishly.

Chat Noir takes a few steps back, bowing to her as he puts on the ‘knight’ act.

“Now, my Princess, I must go.”

Marinette reciprocates the action lightly, smile on her face while never bending her head – she couldn’t offend her servant’s honor, now could she?

“Surely,” she simply says.

His hand is already against the trap door above his head, legs ready for a sprint on the steps of her small stairs. Nonetheless, he stops himself short, eyeing the girl before him with caution.

“Will you be alright?”

The concern is evident on his voice. Her smile doubles its initial size and she catches herself setting a hand to her chest, touching the scar but above her clothes. It’s the right side of her torso, so she wonders if the action causes him puzzlement. Before he can question her, though, Marinette speaks up in a light voice.

“I’ll live.”

It was supposed to be a dumb joke, but he looks dead worried for a moment, and then attempts to cover it with a smile that does not reach his expressive eyes.

“It’s a promise.”

And with that, he’s gone.

She’s still feeling bubbly as she showers, dries and combs her hair, slips into her pajamas and lies upon the bed. Tikki whispers reassuring words into her ears, and Marinette cups her small body with both hands, as if protecting the small creature from curious eyes. The hair brooch is back on its box up her bedside table, and it weighs lightly against her mind as she drifts to sleep in sheer peace for the first time that week.

 

 

On the next day, just after the first period of class, an akuma is set loose inside the school. All classes are dismissed despite the fact students are advised to stay hidden inside their classrooms. But rumors set through text messages between people from different classes says the akumatized person is looking for someone, which leads to panic, which leads to uncontainable clutter.

Marinette is so used to this sort of thing that, when she finally realizes it, she’s already done checking the perimeter of the room and safely locked inside a bathroom stall, opening her purse to call Tikki out.

The kwami smiles to her, and the girl finds it amazingly easy to return the gesture; her mind quickly drifts to a cat in particular and she’s glad for the opportunity to see him again in such a short span of time.

“Spots on!”

And everything goes well until she raises her hand to unlock the door, her first half a breath in the Ladybug skin, when she hears someone yanking the room’s door open, fast steps forward.

“Marinette!” the person screams. “Marinette, I saw you coming inside! We need to leave, _now_!”

It’s Alya.

And she’s a door away to find out her best-kept secret.

A door away to end with Chat Noir’s life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, my hand slipped.
> 
> (( And in case you're curious regarding Marinette's new acessory: https://goo.gl/Bk8dDD ))


	4. How monsters are born

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, work un-beta'd, so please warn me about any major mistakes!  
> I almost lost my once-each-week update and I'm very sorry. Hopefully it won't happen again.  
> That being said, I hope you enjoy!
> 
> (( EDIT: This chapter is (so far) the main reason for the "Blood and Injury" tag; you've been warned. ))

Panic washes through her as she tries to gather what she has and considers what she can possibly do to play that off. She’s Ladybug. In a closed space. With Alya. While said friend knows the only person present with her on this very specific room is Marinette.

Marinette, _not_ Ladybug.

Marinette, who _also happens_ to be Ladybug.

Marinette, who can’t let _anyone_ knows that she is, in fact, Ladybug.

Now, what can she do about that?

Not much. In fact, nothing at all – _probably_.

_‘Fuck.’_

To de-transform would make too much noise and the red light would probably suggest to Alya that something was off (Marinette isn’t completely sure of that; either way, she wouldn’t bet on the brighter side of it), and she can’t simply call Chat Noir through her phone. Leaving the stall as Ladybug and try to claim Alya saw it all wrong would be ridiculous and stupid because even if that did worked (which she was sure it would not), the possibility of her friend being suspicious of her identity would be too high.

She can’t take that risk.

But Alya starts banging her fists against the door, breathing erratic as she keeps calling Marinette’s name.

Ladybug is cornered.

_‘Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck—’_

And then, she sees it again.

It looks as terrifying as the last time she saw it. A black bug with a purple glow, flapping its wings in her direction. Marinette holds her breath, and it’s like the world comes to a stop.

The most baffling thing of all is that she’s actually considering on giving in. If she were to become akumatized, Alya wouldn’t get a chance to connect the dots. This line of thought actually makes the butterfly come closer, and she wants to cry again.

Because that won’t solve anything, and she’s painfully aware of that – instead, it will only make matters worse. If she’s Ladybug, Hawk Moth will be able to take the Miraculous. And she can’t do this to Chat.

She **can’t**.

Alya is kicking the door now, voice crying out something she can’t quite grasp because her head is swirling.

 _‘Get your shit together,’_ Marinette worries her bottom lip, quickly breaking her gaze from the villain’s messenger or she might actually give up. _‘You have to find a way out of this, you have to—’_

A loud noise brings her back to reality.

There’s also shouting, and a heavy curtain of dust along with some small rocks being knocked inside her stall. The next thing she registers is Alya’s hand, falling limp on the ground with only a few fingers peeking from under the door and her stomach drops.

_‘Oh.’_

“A—” her voice fails her and she breathes in deeply, the pads of her fingers touching the door before her hesitantly. “… Miss Césaire?”

When she tries to leave the bathroom stall, Ladybug finds herself locked inside. Something is blocking the door on the other side and her mind goes positively blank as a trickle of blood trails from her friend’s general direction; panic wraps its fingers around her throat and her vision is blurred by confused tears.

“M-Miss—” red mingles with the dirt on the floor and Marinette starts punching the door violently, unable to escape. “ _A-Alya_! Alya!”

Marinette keeps screaming until she hears a man’s laughter – the villain’s, most likely. But then, a familiar voice joins the room and she feels relief wash through her.

“My Lady?! Are you there?!”

“Chat!” she shouts back, wiping her tears. “Chat Noir, please! Alya is— I’m trapped! Alya got hurt!”

She can hear him approaching with fast steps, muttering something she can’t quite grasp just before he calls on Cataclysm. He uses it on something, obviously, but Ladybug is not certain on what it was. Suddenly her door is loose again and when she opens it, Chat Noir is beside her. Alya is lying on the floor, blood coming from a wound on her head. Considering the position she’s in and the lack of an _entire wall_ of the bathroom, she can only guess something fell on top of her. Ladybug’s eyes widen and she rushes to aide her friend.

“Wait, LB—!”

Chat grabs her by the waist, raising her body high in the air as he drags her a few meters away from the unconscious girl on the floor.

“ **No!** ” she struggles with all her strength to be freed from him, and perhaps due her desperation, Chat manages to keep his grasp on her. “Let me go! _Alya_! Alya is—”

When he sets her on her two feet again, they’re already outside of the room, but Chat keeps his hands on her arms so she doesn’t run.

“Ladybug, _focus_! We can’t move her, she—! She might have hit her head in a harsh place and… And the movement could make things worse! We _can’t_.”

Her body is trembling and her head is spinning and _‘God, what have I done?’_

“What do you suggest I do, then?! I can’t just go and let her _bleed to death_ —!”

“Take care of the akuma,” he swallows, trying to seem calm and collected but she knows he isn’t, which makes her wonder if he knows Alya outside the mask – but only for a moment, before she’s panicking again. “I’ll warn the school’s nurse and call an ambulance, okay? Can you do that?”

“… Yes.”

He nods and sprints the other way.

Ladybug tries not to think as she runs through the school building in search for the akumatized civilian, because if she does, she’ll run back to Alya in a heartbeat. The guilt is consuming her, eating her alive and she doesn’t know what to do.

After reaching the cafeteria, she’s forced to go back to reasoning.

“I am _Season Dominus_!” the man with another yet idiotic costume opens his arms theatrically, triumphant smile on his face. “And all of you must bow before me!”

Ladybug twists her mouth in anger and breathes in deeply, a strong mix of emotions boiling inside her body – threatening to spill.

_She doesn’t have time for this._

 

 

Marinette only breaks down after she’s back at her home.

Students were dismissed from school early. Mostly because of Alya’s situation; she was sent to the hospital and absolutely _nothing_ about her physical state was leaked to anyone. But there was something else, as well. During a normal attack, Ladybug would restore all things back to how they were before, but to Marinette’s surprise, it didn’t fully work that time – some of the rooms were still a mess when she left, and her friend was gravely hurt.

When given the opportunity, Tikki explained the cure hadn’t thoroughly worked because of Ladybug’s state of mind. Her heart was disturbed and as a superhero connected to creation, having a destructive storm inside herself could easily damage part of her powers.

Marinette wants to cry.

It all feels like a ransom she’ll surely die before paying it all.

She _hates_ it.

Either way, when Chat stops to visit, she tries to seem less freaked out. This doesn’t make their talk less tense, though.

“Did someone tell you about Alya?”

She’s sat down the chair by her work table; he’s on his feet, a little far from her. The way he avoids her gaze means he feels guilty.

Even if it’s not his fault.

“I’m surprised you even mentioned it to me,” her laugh is hollow, but Marinette likes to think she’s fooled him. “I thought you’d avoid giving me bad news.”

“Well,” he shrugs, still not meeting her eyes. “If it makes you feel better, I actually considered being quiet about it. But it didn’t felt right to hide something like that from you. She’s your best friend, after all.”

Marinette narrows her eyes at the piece of information.

He knows they’re _best_ friends.

Which means he goes to their school. To their class, maybe. Because _how else_ would he know?

“Thanks,” she voices hesitantly. “But she’s better now, right?”

“I, uh…” the boy scratches the back of his neck a little sheepishly, and the act seems all too familiar to her. “Ladybug’s cure wasn’t completely effective this time. I don’t know really what happened, but… You shouldn’t worry too much. Alya will be fine.”

_It’s her fault._

But she does not vocalize the thought. Marinette would bet any day that the denial is ready on his tongue, but truly, what does Chat Noir knows?

Nothing. Absolutely _nothing_.

“Right.”

“You should rest,” he sighs deeply. “You’ve been having a rough week. I don’t think it’s safe for you to get stressed like this.”

She knows what he means.

It brings her down further.

“Why do you keep coming back here?” Marinette asks, not entirely sure of what she expects as an answer. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“You’re important to me,” he simply says.

“Really?”

“Well, yes? There aren’t many people who actually know me, so I feel like I should treasure the few who do.”

And then, she feels a little… _Hopeful_. They’re getting closer as Chat and Marinette, although she’s not really sure of what that means. A handful of emotions go through her mind rapidly and she’s reminded once again of her feelings.

She loves him, and she’d failed him once more.

 

 

The days don’t get any easier.

It has been three days since the akuma attack at school. Alya is still on the hospital and was awake from day two, but a strange amnesia kept the doctors from sending her home straight away. Needless to say, Marinette feels like she is to blame. She could have done something, _anything_ , and this wouldn’t have happened. And the fact she felt relieved for Alya not being able to remember her last 10 minutes of consciousness makes it even worse.

But it doesn’t stop there.

They had an important test at school and Marinette didn’t even need the professor to finish the review to know she had failed miserably. The girl was sure her parents have been feeling lighter every time she left home because their uneasiness was very visible by the time she was back. She had been a little rude with Rose during lunch period for a reason Marinette can’t really remember and a lot of her classmates, Juleka especially, had been kind of avoiding her. Chlóe pushed too far, as of usual, humiliating her every time she had a chance. The professor spoke to her about considering giving the position as the class’ representant to someone else due her lack of activity as of late. Tikki did her best to not bother her. Nino tried to be comprehensive and Adrien kept looking at her with eyes full of _pity_.

Hawk Moth visited her five times more.

All things considered, Marinette was surprised it hadn’t been at least the double, and how she managed to escape every single time was something she couldn’t quite understand.

Every time something bad would happen, she’d touch the scar hidden underneath her clothes, thinking about the sole person she was looking forward to see.

Chat Noir.

He’d been visiting her daily since Alya’s incident. He has been caring, patient, loving. And after turning into a constant in her life, Marinette fully thought it would be okay to seek for his moral support.

However, as of late, things never did go as she expected.

Because during his nighttime visit for the day, they were simply sitting side by side at the divan, bodies touching from shoulder to hip, playing with each other’s fingers absent-mindedly. Marinette had been sensible enough to wear his present every day during their time together to show her appreciation, and the action wasn’t lost on him. Chat would always smile and compliment her, and Marinette found herself crying less and less – despite the overwhelming stress of her routine.

But when she lets a shuddering sight and Chat brings her head to rest on his shoulder, claws messing gently with her loose dark locks, Marinette’s heart stutters a beat and suddenly her feelings of adoration overflow and she takes the worst possible decision.

She raises her head and leans in to kiss him.

And just before she closes her eyes, she sees Chat Noir’s eyes widen in shock, his trembling hands pushing her back a little. He gives her a last look full of guilt before swallowing hard, getting on his two feet and putting a considerable distance between them. He has his back to her, shoulders limp and what she guesses to be shame.

“Princess, I… I’m sorry, I really think you’re amazing and nice, but I like— No, I _love_ Ladybug and—”

“Leave,” she breathes.

A jolt rushes through his body and he turns, looking _desperately lost_ and the pain in her heart increases tenfold because she caused this. Just as much she caused everything else.

It’s her fault.

“L-Look, I didn’t mean for this to happen! I really—”

“Chat, p-please, I’m _fine_. J-Just— I just need some alone time.”

He comes to grab her shoulders, hands trembling and now she’s the one who avoids his gaze.

“Please, Marinette, talk to me! I don’t think it’s a good idea to leave you like this. I don’t—”

Suddenly, his entire body tenses and immediately freezes right after. His eyes are blown wide and he seems to be focusing on something in her shoulder, and Marinette doesn’t get what he got so worked up about until her eyes dart downwards, noticing her loose sweater plus his grip exposed enough of her skin so her shoulder, as well as the edge of the scar, were visible.

When she gets back to him, his expression looks ten times more worried than before. In fact, he looks pretty much terrified with the idea she had a scar that big; Chat is possibly considering what could’ve happened to her to leave such a large scar on her. And if Marinette’s suspicion of Chat Noir being someone she knows without the mask is anything to go by, he probably knows she didn’t had it until just recently, despite the mark looking pretty faint.

She lets out a trembling breath and her entire body feels numb.

“ _Leave_ ,” she insists. Her voice sounds twice as broken now and she’s shaking violently.

He takes a step forward, his tone extremely careful and almost accusatory, “Marinette—”

“ _Get **out**!_ ”

She’s screaming, throwing the cushions of her divan at his general direction. When Marinette feels his warmth get too close, she yanks him away, pleads of _‘Leave me alone’_ and _‘Don’t come back’_ resonating through her small body until she finally gets what she wants.

He’s gone.

Chat was probably trying to be considerate. Trying to give her space, but—

_No._

He really did leave her behind.

She knew this would happen, one way or another. How could she let herself be fooled like that? When Chat Noir kept coming back, for a moment, Marinette thought she could be special to him; that, for the first time, she could best Ladybug.

Marinette should’ve known better.

In her rage, she starts bringing things down. She flips the divan upside down, throws to the ground the framed pictures and books and drawings there are on her table, rips apart the dress she’s been working on for weeks, yanks all the posters off her bedroom walls, smashes her chair against the floor and storms to the bathroom, letting out a loud and broken shriek because it’s too much. _Too much_.

Chat Noir left.

_He doesn’t like her._

Her safe heaven is gone.

The only thing that kept her mind in place is _fucking **gone**_.

She allowed herself to be supported by him, she has made her life a mess _because of him_ and now she’s all alone.

When she gets to the bathroom, Marinette closes and locks the door behind her. As she turns to the mirror, she blinks once, twice, and for a moment the girl can’t quite recognize herself. She’s disheveled, the hair brooch is almost falling from the messy dark locks, tear-stained, chest wavering with rushed breaths and a broke expression permanently marked on her complexion.

The image of her reflection gets progressively more hideous and her body moves on a whim, hands balling up in fists. Marinette smashes the mirror with all her strength, voice coming out as a broken, guttural cry that seems to unleash all the pain, anxiety, fear and isolation she has been enduring for the past week.

_It hurts._

The mirror shatters, its pieces falling aggressively all around her, shards making its way inside her flesh and drawing blood as she fidgets under her feet and keeps punching the place where the mirror was supposed to be. Marinette’s vision is blurry by angry tears, Tikki is nowhere to be seen, she can hear her parents screaming for her to _please, sweetie, open the door!_ and her nose is filled with a heavy metallic smell.

_It hurts. It **hurts**._

Her body turns and then she’s grabbing the curtains that circle partially the bathtub, yanking them off of their metal support and throwing them on the ground. Bloody hands pull harshly the drawers out of their space so they can join the plastic on the floor, its contents being splattered all over the bathroom and, in a few seconds, she brought the place down. Her body goes weak for the lack of things to destroy, her knees buckle and Marinette falls on her legs, broken glass cutting deeply through her skin.

 _Ithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurts_ —

Breathing erratic, the girl roughly takes off her sweater and pulls at her bra so strongly the clasp snaps and breaks. She’s topless when the pads of her fingers touch the scar, from her shoulder to the edge of the bottom curve of the opposite breast – it’s gentle at first, but then it’s faster, harder, the heavy pressure making angry red marks on her skin until the nails decide to join. Marinette scratches the scar up and down until the skin starts to come off, the smell of blood already too intoxicating to make any difference at all.

She wishes she could forget everything. About her family, about Alya, about Tikki and the Miraculous.

_About Chat Noir._

Marinette feels guilt wash over her on the subsequent second.

It’s not their fault. It’s hers.

She’s the one who worried her parents, who was rather put a friend in danger than coming up with something to not being found out as Ladybug, who felt so alone that agreed to something that would ruin everything just to get Chat Noir back.

None of them ever asked for this.

She was stupid. Over and over again.

They’d probably hate her and feel disgusted with her actions and decisions. Alya would feel betrayed for more reasons than one, her parents would never trust her again and Chat—

Oh, _Chat_.

Marinette brings her wounded, blood-stained hands to her face, crying into her palms and smudging red all over. She’s crying so hard she’s afraid her eyes will never work the same again. Pulling at her hair, yet making the effort to keep the hair brooch in place, she withers to the ground in loud and broken sounds.

And then, she feels it again, the dreadful sensation making Marinette stop mid-sob, eyes widening in shock as that same voice echoes inside her head, whispering comforting promises, sounding as tempting as never before.

She feels a violent shiver run across her, as if the insect she knows it’s in her company crawled under her skin. The accessory on her hair gets heavier as the purple glow wraps itself around her body, and Marinette feels her consciousness slipping away after finally saying,

“ _Yes, Hawk Moth._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry?


	5. From a predator to another

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little longer than the others! It's a little treat for hurting your hearts so much on the last part. :x  
> Since we're a little past the half of this story, I'd like to thank all of you who read, leave comments and kudos and everything else! I wouldn't even have made it to chapter 2 if it weren't for y'all.
> 
> Again, work un-beta'd. Please warn me about any major mistakes!
> 
> That being said, I hope you enjoy!

Tikki was flying away as fast as she could, Marinette’s red earrings secure between her paws.

As bad as it sounded, she knew her chosen wouldn’t make it. The pressure was too great, and her sentence had been decided the moment Marinette took up on such heavy prices. Tikki knows this is partially her fault; she shouldn’t have offered the deal in the first place.

But she supposes that, from two terrible way outs, she took the lesser.

If Chat Noir’s life had been wasted from day one, Marinette would’ve ended much worse. Their lives had been connected from the moment they accepted their Miraculous, and to lose their other halves would result in an excruciating pain – something Tikki wasn’t ready to see Marinette going through. The deal offered her a second chance, albeit with a heavy payment to deliver in return. It left the girl feeling beyond exposed, and she should’ve predicted it.

Tikki should have, but she didn’t.

Now, she’d have to watch Marinette unravel.

And she was so certain of what was about to happen that, right after Chat Noir left, Tikki took the girl’s Miraculous and flew.

When she became akumatized, whether Hawk Moth knew her identity as Ladybug or not, Tikki would be an easy prey. All things considered, there was only one person who could protect Marinette’s Miraculous and possibly make things go back to how they were before.

Chat Noir.

Which is why Tikki is currently doing all she can to catch up with him as he jumps across the rooftops of Paris, or at the very least not lose sight of the boy in question. Plagg’s chosen is fast, but that was to be expected.

Fortunately, the red kwami is the very impersonation of luck.

Still, when Chat lands on a balcony of a familiar large mansion and a lime-green light suddenly surrounds him, leaving behind an even more familiar blonde boy, Tikki is not so sure about her luck anymore.

“Adrien,” she whispers in the distance.

Their situation is much worse than she expected it to be, in the end.

 

 

He was a fool.

Adrien thought he could help Marinette through Chat Noir; she had been more receptive to his superhero persona than to the boy behind the mask, after all. It probably had to do with that _embarrassing_ first day of school, or maybe the fact he was the son of someone important inside the industry she was aiming for her professional career, but he could be wrong.

Needless to say, it did _not_ go as he planned it to.

The boy left in an attempt to give her space to calm down on her own, since he was probably the last person she wanted to see right now. Adrien considered giving someone a call, but Alya was still in the hospital, Nino was grounded for a reason he wasn’t sure of and, somehow, Marinette’s parents did not seem like the better option.

Either way, saying he regretted leaving her behind was a gross understatement; in fact, the guilt had started to permeate him the moment he jumped off her balcony.

And by moment he landed on his, he was already consumed by it.

He released his transformation, ignoring Plagg’s annoyed grouch. His legs give out by the time he reaches the bed and Adrien falls on his stomach, mind swirling with things he could have done or said to prevent that disaster.

Marinette _liked_ him.

And he couldn’t return her feelings, despite how sweet or nice or amazing she was. His heart belonged to Ladybug, after all.

_‘But why it doesn’t feel like the right thing?’_

The black kwami allows him silence and peace for about two minutes before gasping loudly. Adrien raises his head only to find Plagg frozen in the middle of the room, eyes wide.

“What is it, Plagg?”

He turns the other way in breakneck speed and approaches the locked window of Adrien’s room. One of his small paws touch the glass, his expression extremely difficult to read. The boy sits on the bed.

“Oh,” the kwami sighs, voice a little raspy. “Oh no.”

Adrien frowns as he tries again, “Plagg?”

“Open the window, _now_!”

He shoots up from the bed, almost tripping on his feet as he rapidly makes his way to the window. After unlocking it and sliding the glass door open, Adrien narrows his eyes, trying to pick on whatever Plagg is seeing in the distance. After almost half a minute, he sees a small red spot; its form gets more coherent each advanced inch, but he can only recognize it as some sort of bug the moment it lands on his balcony, right in front of them.

“What—” and his voice breaks because _that can’t be good news_ , so he clears his throat and tries again. “Who…?”

“Tikki!”

They’re hugging, then. And the moment seems so intimate and emotional Adrien has to look away to give them space; obviously, they know each other well enough, and the being sharing a hug with Plagg seems to be a kwami, as well. He starts thinking about the reasons behind the visit but his line of thought is interrupted by a sob. Once he looks back at them, Adrien finds the red kwami crying.

“Plagg, I’m _so sorry_.”

Plagg cups her round face with his paws and touch foreheads. Again, Adrien is tempted to look again; this time, however, he doesn’t.

“Tikki, look at me. _Breathe_.”

They’re still having a personal moment when Adrien’s eyes fall on whatever is that Tikki is carrying with her, but his stomach drops the moment he recognizes the small, round form of the red accessories.

“Those… T-Those are Ladybug’s earrings.”

She looks at him sadly and nods, “And for now, you’re the only one who can keep them safe.”

“What do you mean?” he seems merely confused, a careful smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “What happened to Ladybug?”

“She was taken,” Tikki breathes.

“Taken?” Adrien’s eyes widen, voice wavering. “To _where_?! By who—?”

“Not physically, no! She was… M-My chosen was…”

Plagg sighs, shaking his head. “Tikki, what have you done?”

“It would have been much worse if I hadn’t done anything! She would break! The Miraculous could’ve been corrupted and—! And who knows what she would have done to herself if—!”

“ _Calm down_ ,” Plagg growls. “Tell us what happened.”

“There is no time!” she turns to Adrien, then. “Chat Noir, please, _please_ , you have to help her!”

“I’m… Not sure I follow,” the boy answers helplessly.

“Marinette… Was akumatized.”

“Marinette?” he narrows his eyes, “As in, Marinette Dupain-Cheng?”

“ _Ladybug_ , yes.”

_‘Shit.’_

Marinette is Ladybug.

Marinette is Ladybug, and he rejected her.

Marinette is Ladybug, and Adrien deliberately hurt her feelings; he was holding back from his dumb crush on her because of his love for her superhero alter ego, and he’d hurt her.

_‘Stupid. Stupid stupid—’_

But then the meaning of Tikki’s words finally hit him and Adrien looks back at her, flabbergasted.

“ _Akumatized_?” he tries.

“Yes.”

Dread takes over him, knees weak as he allows himself to sit on the floor – he’ll collapse otherwise. “B-But… But we can’t—”

Her eyes are full of understanding, but sad nonetheless. Adrien can’t help but think there’s much more to it.

“She gave up on that so she could have something else,” she says.

“I thought we had _banished_ this sort of deal at least a thousand years ago—”

“I had no choice, Plagg!”

Her voice is broken, full of hurt.

Adrien can relate, somehow.

“… Who?” asks Plagg.

She dismisses it with a wave of her head, refusing to reveal anything regarding Marinette’s secret. If they want to know, then the decision to tell shouldn’t be Tikki’s – it’s not the right thing to do.

“Tell me,” Plagg orders.

“It’s not my place.”

“P-Plagg—?” Adrien tries.

“ _Tell me_ ,” the kwami says again.

“You know very well who it is!” Tikki’s eyes are full of tears, tiny lips trembling.

Plagg frowns angrily, breath wavering as he looks away.

“God _damn_ it!”

The room is left in sheer silence for almost half a minute. Adrien is confused beyond his mind and Ladybug’s kwami is in his room, which makes the situation even weirder, if not terrifying – _because his Lady needs help_.

With a sigh, Plagg speaks again.

“Kid, suit up. We have a stinky bug to save.”

“No way!” he throws his hands to the air, the hurt evident in his face. “You’re going to explain what’s going on! _Now_! I’m tired of being pushed around by you like an oblivious puppy, Plagg.”

“You’re not a puppy,” he says back.

The boy stares at him, teeth clenched tight, green eyes growing into a piercing gaze while he tries to show how serious he actually is. Plagg fidgets slightly and swallows visibly.

“Ladybug made a deal to save your life,” the black kwami blurts out.

Tikki gasps loudly, “Plagg—!”

“The scar on her shoulder was probably part of her payment, now that I think about it. This explains a bunch of shit.”

Adrien purses his lips, anger taking over his senses and spilling out of his mouth before he can think twice. “Why didn’t you warn us about it?” he turns to Tikki, then. “This could have been avoided.”

“… I knew Marinette would be taken from the moment she woke up that day. There was nothing you could've done.”

“And doesn’t this make the situation— No! Doesn’t that make _you_ even worse?!”

“Adrien,” the black kwami intervenes and says it as a warning; the boy is positive he’d never seen him so serious in his entire life. “Don’t talk to Tikki like that.”

“Plagg, you don’t understand! Ladybug— _Marinette_ was—”

“The Miraculous could’ve been compromised,” he reasons, turning his back to him to pet Tikki for a bit. “Having Ladybug as a villain, as an _enemy_ is not something you want to happen. We had the displeasure to experience that a couple of times. Tikki did you a favor.”

The boy swallows, feeling himself wither. Being angry at someone who tried to help wouldn’t do them any good; he had to keep calm.

“And how are we supposed to make her go back to normal, then? She was always the one to cleanse the akuma.”

“I can do it,” Tikki mutters. “But the Miraculous Cure won’t work.”

Adrien frowns, locking eyes with her, “And what happens to Marinette after this is over?”

“It depends,” the red kwami averts her gaze in shame, pursing her lips. “But people can only be akumatized once, so this risk will be over once we defeat her.”

“ _‘This’_ risk?” Plagg asks. “Is there anything else?”

“It’s… Not my place.”

“Right,” he huffs, “She was akumatized just after talking to Chat Noir, so I’d suit up if I were you, kid. The girl is probably after your head already.”

Adrien nods and transforms into Chat Noir; doing that in front of someone else feels weird, but he supposes Tikki doesn’t really count, since she’s a kwami as well. The boy opens one of his pockets, motioning for her to get inside. She nods quietly and takes the place against his ribs.

“You don’t happen to know what the corrupted object is this time around, right?”

“Do you really need me to answer that?”

Chat licks his lips, something akin to shame striking his masked features. “… No.”

 

 

They arrive at the Dupain-Cheng’s in less than five minutes, and everything would seem in order if it weren’t for the blocked exits; both windows and doors were covered by something white, like a wall made of… _Hair_? He couldn’t be sure from the outside, but whatever it was, it didn’t seem to be good. Plagg stung him from inside the ring and Tikki shifted inside his pocked, peeking out her tiny head.

“She’s no longer here.”

“How can you be sure?”

The kwami sighs and purses her lips, “Because we are connected.”

Chat checks all windows once more, trying to pry open the hatch on Marinette’s balcony, but to no avail. He’d feel better if he could have a look inside, to make sure Tom and Sabine were alright, but he knows they’re running short on time.

He turns on his heel and makes his way back to school.

They were having lunch period. If Marinette really is hunting people, than school, followed by the hospital in which Alya had stood in observation for the last days, were his best bet.

On the middle of the way to the Collège, however, the kwami in his pocket lets out a small shriek.

“What’s wrong?” Chat asks.

“Akuma!”

He clicks his tongue, slowing down his pace to wait for Tikki’s directions, “Marinette? Where?”

“No!” she cries, “There’s another one!”

The boy stops altogether, this time.

“… _What_?”

Tikki opens her mouth, hesitant, but a loud ensemble of screams stopped her short. Chat hurries to a higher building and the scene that meets his eye leaves the boy motionless.

In the distance, there is a brunette girl in a shiny green costume – who obviously isn’t Marinette, he notes. Apparently she can make plants grow out of nowhere, but she can also turn random citizens into them. And there’s people running away from her, surely, but something feels off.

Because there are innumerous people lying on the ground, screaming and squirming in what seems to be an unbearable pain; there are also lots of people… _Panicking_ , and with plenty of examples for different ways of doing so: hyperventilating, thrown in the ground in a fetal position, catatonics, running all around and then stopping short only to turn around and repeat it the other way, peeling their skin off with harsh scratches, trembling helplessly, crying their eyes out, giving loud and terrified squeaks every time someone looks their way, and the list goes on.

These, Chat reasons, follow a pattern.

There’s cascade of dark, purple-black veins coming from a single point, seemingly random, different to every person, making the skin around it turn into an ugly gradient of the same color.

“There’s a third one, now,” Tikki mutters with a shudder.

Chat Noir purses his lips.

“We need to find Marinette.”

The red kwami nods, and the boy resumes sprinting towards the school. When they finally arrive, the place is in a similar shape to the bakery; all exits blocked on the inside by something in light-grey, almost white. Chat dries to bring it down with kicks and punches and even tries using his baton, but it won’t budge. With a heavy sigh, he picks a window at the ground floor and uses Cataclysm, hopping inside the moment it goes down.

And then, he wishes he hadn’t.

Paris was chaos. Paris was screaming and crying and pleas for _please stop I can’t do this anymore—!_

Collège Françoise Dupont, on the other hand?

Pitch blackness. Unsettling and never-changing quiet.

Uneasiness made a home of his heart and Chat could feel his nerves cringing, the lack of _anything at all_ keeping him on edge. With a quick glance around the corridor, he has positive no one was around, despite school hours not being finished for the day yet. And the boy knew by experience when an akuma attacked in such circumstances, a few students always ended up trapped indoors.

When he reached his own classroom, his stomach dropped.

There were a few sacks of lengthy… _Somethings_ , completely wrapped up on what it seemed to be the same thing blocking the windows. A few of them were forgotten, some high up in the walls. He frowned, not exactly feeling enough to neither touch nor approach, but reluctant to just leave it be. With a shuddering breath and careful steps, Chat walked towards it, being stopped by a single _tap_ that resonated a few feet behind him.

And for a moment, even with his sharp hearing because of the transformation, he isn’t sure if there’s something (or someone) really approaching him or not. It’s so quiet and _hollow_ the mere thought of turning around to check if he’s on the clear terrifies him – nonetheless, he swallows, clenching his teeth. Chat draws his baton the same time he turns to face the alleged danger, and what he finds is even worse than the room itself.

It was Marinette, yes – but not _quite_.

She wore a short cocktail dress, cream-colored satin under a dull gray see-through fabric, a thick black belt accentuating her slim waist as the low hug-shoulder neckline was smoldered by black lace in a pattern of small flowers that went down her hips. There’s a bulky adornment in her hair, which is tied in a French-twist style; few of the blue-raven locks are let loose and they almost hide the long, white and silver floral earrings. The dark and smoke-y eye-shadow brought out her summery-sky eyes that glow and _burn_ and the whiteness of her skin makes the wine-painted lips stand out nicely. She also had a simple black choker and wore a pair of black pump platforms, and the overall combination would make her outstandingly beautiful if not for the terrifying gloves of long and sharp steel claws, a tangle of wires covering a few portions of her fingers and the back of her hands till her wrists.

And, of course, there were the long and thick and pointy _somethings_ coming out of her back, which he could somehow easily relate to a spider’s arms – and that would explain the white stuff covering the exits, as well the sacks in the classroom.

Spider web.

Cocoons.

A shiver runs down Chat Noir’s spine, and he realizes a little bitterly that of all akumatized people he’d ever confronted, Marinette is who scares and saddens him the most, and for more reasons than one.

Because like this, she looks thoroughly bitter and _murderous_ above all others he had ever fought. Because when she’s _Marinette_ , she’s sweet and beautiful and kind and caring, but there were still horrible circumstances and _people_ who made her desperate to the point of succumbing to Hawk Moth’s power.

Because, in a way or another, he is also an accomplice to her current state.

His lungs falter and only then Chat realizes he’s been holding his breath. When he breathes in deeply his nostrils are stricken with a nauseous smell of blood and the superhero curses softly. Marinette’s blue gaze shines like forgotten lanterns in the darkness and he tries, God, he tries _so_ hard not to look frightened.

The boy is brought into reality once more when Tikki whispers again. It’s another akuma – the fourth on the loose. He swallows bitterly and reckons he’ll have to do this fast. Chat can’t make things go back to normal and his Ladybug is right in front of him.

And she’s broken.

Even though she doesn’t look like it.

As Marinette takes a step forward, he can finally see the smile on her face. It’s big, calm, maybe a little smug.

A share of _disturbing_ , as well.

“I see you’ve received my invitation,” she says, loud and clear, albeit in a mysterious tone that makes his stomach swirl in agony.

Chat lets out a breathless laugh, failing to find the humor inside himself. He’s usually able to crack jokes in this kind of situation, but whether the akumatized person hits too close to home or she has some sort of control over him, he can’t be sure. Without being obvious, he tries to find the hair brooch – undoubtedly the corrupted object – in her hair.

He can’t spot it anywhere.

“I fail to see how. You see, everything was locked tight when I arrived,” he answers lamely.

She moves her claws and suddenly one of the cocoons is moving behind him. Chat turns his head slightly, just to guarantee she isn’t going to try throwing that at him, only to see the sack being raised to the ceiling and being attached with a few others he had failed to notice before, a giant web serving as support to all of them.

Once he goes back to Marinette, the boy notices there are a couple of strings circling her claws. Like that, she looks like a puppeteer. He cringes on the inside, worried as to what else her powers include.

The girl shrugs, “Well, stray cats only come in when uninvited, anyway.”

“Marinette, is… Is it still you on the inside?”

She’s very calm and collected as her head tips slightly to the side, lips softly circling around the word, “No.”

He swallows and takes a step back, cautious.

“Aren’t you going to tell me your name, then?” Chat breathes, giving her a smirk that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Maybe even ask for my _Mew_ raculous. That would be kind of ironic to hear.”

The meaning behind his words isn’t lost on her, apparently. She narrows her gaze and studies his expression, but her coy smile never falters.

“Unfortunately, that will have to wait. I still have some… _Hunting_ to do.”

His eyes go wide and his voice is a weak mumble as he asks, “ _What_?”

“From a predator to another, you should understand it better than anyone,” she gives him a once-over, a smile verging insanity playing on her lips. “I’m just saving the best for last.”

His stomach constricts and the air is kicked out of his lungs, head spinning with the implications behind her words.

“What did you do?”

She shrugs again, making her way to turn on her heel and leave him behind, default expression still plastered on her face and despite his poor state, he manages to scream at her.

“Marinette, _what did you do_?!”

“Paranoia.”

Chat freezes and she raises one of her hands to him, a purple glow twirling around her claws like a ominous smoke.

“My name is… _Paranoia_.”

Whatever she had in her hand is shot in his direction. Chat ducks and rolls on the floor, but the moment he’s back at his feet, she’s already gone. It’s only then a loud beep finally rings through his ears, and when Chat looks down at his ring he has to hold back a curse because he’s already half-way through his limit time.

_‘So Paranoia is a spider, huh?’_

_How fitting,_ he mutters nervously inside his head.

The boy twists his lips in concern and turns around, amazed to see whatever she shot him with did not have any effect on the floor behind him. It probably does things to living beings only. With a heavy, shuddering sigh, he backs up until his back hits a wall. Tikki leaves his pocket, and her small paws caress his messy blonde locks.

“Everything will be fine, Chat Noir.”

He dismisses with a wave of his head, feeling his limbs start to shake; he was able to keep his cool in front of her, but something about Paranoia was making his mind swirl and his chest constrict. One of her abilities, that’s for sure.

Or maybe it was the guilt.

“We have to go,” she says.

He takes a few rushed breaths before jumping back on his feet. Chat takes a last look on the cocoons around the room before the pawprint on his ring gives its last warning. The red kwami opens his mouth, possibly to repeat her last suggestion, but her eyes widen and then she frowns, expression withering into something really sad.

“There’s a fifth, now.”

What can he possibly do?

_Five against one._

Even with Ladybug, it would be a lost battle. He has to be smart about this; maybe if he moves towards Hawk Moth instead of his akuma, there will be a chance to win. Cutting the head of the snake, everything else will fall as well, right?

His hands fumble with his baton and he tries to swallow the knot in his throat. The transformation drops and then he’s Adrien again. Plagg goes straight to Tikki, patting her gently on the back. All of them are silent, looking absent-mindedly at the ground, frozen in place; he doesn’t know what pushed the kwami into realizing things, but whatever it was, Adrien is deeply grateful, for Tikki’s face suddenly lit up and she floats hurriedly to his side.

“Marinette!” she cries.

A jolt runs through his body before he asks, “What about her?”

“She was turned into Paranoia,” the kwami reasons slowly, as if the thought is a little complex even to herself; Adrien’s eyes widen and somehow he feels stupid for not thinking of it before, “So naturally, her power is to make people—”

“Paranoid,” he finishes, clenching his teeth.

“And what sometimes comes with paranoia is all Hawk Moth needs in a victim. Marinette is basically setting the stage for him.”

Adrien lets out a humorless laugh and his knees go weak; his hands fly to the table, seeking for support before he has the opportunity to break down. His brain works in silence, connecting the loose dots of the full picture. There were people acting strange outside when the second akuma had appeared, the ones with the dark vein marks on their bodies – that _had_ to be Marinette.

The people in pain, the people in panic and the students trapped inside cocoons in the classrooms. That was all Marinette.

And if her powers toy with emotions enough to leave people full with fear and self-doubt, he’d be impressed if the current outcome hadn’t happened. The people of Paris were left exposed because of Paranoia’s ability, and Hawk Moth decided to strike what was left behind.

“ _Shit_.”

A sudden rush of adrenaline washes through him. Adrien grabs the kwamis, hides them inside his shirt and goes back to the corridor, leaving the building using the same window he brought down to get in. He then hears Plagg whispering from his cover.

“We have to stop her before the damage becomes irreversible. At this rate, the number of akumatized people will be enough to overpower you easily and there will be nothing that even a new Ladybug will be able to do.”

The boy tenses and stops in his tracks, pulling at his shirt slightly to have a good look at Tikki, eyes pleading. “You'd choose someone else as Ladybug?”

The little kwami frowns sadly before saying, “If I have no other choice, then yes,” she breathes, shivering. “Don't get me wrong. I wouldn't go back on my word about Marinette. She was chosen to be a Miraculous Holder for good reason and I can safely say no one else in this entire city will do a better job than her, but if comes to it—”

“I know,” he quickly reassures, wishing to hear no more. “I _know_.”

He resumes his walk, fast steps leading him to the Agreste Mansion. But Plagg growls inside his breast pocket and says, “Add another to the count.”

Adrien is running now.

He can’t let that happen. That would be disrespectful to Marinette’s sacrifice and to all they had built together in the past. If Hawk Moth wins, he may never see her again – they don’t know what the villain plans to do with the city if he is ever to win the battle, after all.

However, something that seems very much like an earthquake sends him to the ground. He grunts in pain but the trembling floor stops right after; Adrien tries to get up quickly, but now there’s a sore spot on his side that forces him to be on his knees for the time being. Both kwamis ask if he’s alright and there’s only another growl in response, and before he gets the chance to voice any other complain, a gross shiver runs down his spine.

The screams all around come to a stop and he tries to swallow down the dread inside him, because he knows that sensation very well; just as much he recognizes the single _tap_ against the floor behind him, and soon her voice will call out, will make him turn around and he’ll painfully regret everything he’d ever done to wrong her – for being relapse, insensitive, _blind_ —

“Oh, my. Just the person I was looking for.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little less pain on this one, huh?
> 
> (( EDIT: I decided to share some of my inspirations for Marinette's akumatized form! I actually did some research on things before writing the chapter, so here we go:  
> \- Paranoia's dress: http://goo.gl/UGmXKp  
> \- Claws: http://goo.gl/NHEi7H  
> Hopefully this will repay for my lack of ability in descriptions of clothing, oops. ))


	6. Playing cat's cradle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternatively titled "Hello darkness my old friend"-- OK JK PLS DON'T KILL ME.
> 
> Now, a few important things before we dive into the chapter! 
> 
> **PLEASE, PLEASE READ THIS!** The ranting went up and important tags were added. This chapter is pretty much transitory, but there will be a scene where something kind of graphic (involving blood and I guess dismemberment?) happens. If you can't handle gore (even if it's not really that discriptive), please ask for someone else to read this chapter for you and flag/delete whatever might be too much. Please, everyone, stay safe.
> 
> That being said, chapter 6 (and whatever might follow) is full of small headcanons. Identity reveals everywhere. And a few spoilers for the Origin episodes (such as names, occupations, and then some). With that out of the way, I'll just say there's a high possibility the next chapter will be the last, but I'll see how things play out before my next update. Either way, I have no plans on dragging this for too long (since I have some other plot bunnies to work with, welp), so worry not.
> 
> And also: I'M SORRY FOR BEING LATE HOLY SHIT. It has been a rough week and this part was a total bitch to write. Anyway, I hope you like it! Thank you again for all the comments/kudos/etc. Again, work un-beta'd, so there might be a ~~lot~~ few mistakes ahead.
> 
> <3

Before he has the opportunity to turn around, however, Adrien feels a small pain prickling under his skin - and then, he feels _nothing at all_. His body goes numb all over, but he doesn’t move; suddenly, it’s like he’s a living statue. Tikki is trembling in fear against his ribs and he can still feel Plagg’s warmth, but despite his wish to tell them to run away, the only thing in him that still seems to be working is his mind, now running a mile per second.

Marinette’s - or rather, _Paranoia’s_ \- shadow is cast upon him, her heels in gentle _taps_ as she goes around his figure. She crouches, placing a hand under his chin to force him to look up. Her claws are glowing again, he notices, and Adrien can only guess whatever she tried to shoot him with earlier while he’d been transformed had finally hit on the spot - and _worse_ , got him paralyzed.

When he finally locks eyes with her, the easy smile is still on her face and a shiver runs down his spine.

“You don’t have to look so scared,” a claw caresses his cheek as her other hand works around a few of the strings, which start to embrace him slowly. “Not yet, at least.”

His breath hitches and dread takes over him.

_‘It’s over.’_

Adrien hears Tikki let out a quiet squeak as Plagg shifts insistently under his jacket.

 _‘She's got me. I lost. It's_ over _—’_

The kwami’s heat goes away at the same time Paranoia’s eyes go down and open wide in shock. There’s a dark glow that makes a shattering noise and then, she’s sent flying away by a blow. Adrien gasps and chokes on nothing, feeling as if his strength had been sucked away at the same time the numbness on his limbs start to fade.

“Why did you do that for?!” is Tikki’s voice, sounding terrified and mildly hurt.

“We can’t possibly afford to lose him. It had to be done,” and Plagg comes to float in front of Adrien’s face, giving a small pat on his left cheek.

“You can only use that _once_ each _ten hundred_ —!”

“Just like your way to cleanse akuma!” he shouts back. “We have no other choice. Chat Noir can’t be lost now.”

Tikki huffs, obvious discontentment in her voice – but she says no more. Breathing out hurts as much as breathing in, but Adrien tries to wriggle his pain away, burrow in a deep frown as if gathering all the strength within his body. One of his knees goes up and his support wavers, but he’s able to stand on his feet after a couple minutes. Both kwami grip his shirt, urging him on a different direction than before.

“W-What… ?” his voice is nothing but a mumble, but he has to make it work somehow; has to get some answers before he goes _insane_ —

“Not now,” Plagg dismisses him with a wave of his tiny head. “We have to get you to Fu. He’ll know what to do next.”

Adrien howls in pain, but puts up no resistance against them.

 

 

Surprisingly so, she spends almost a four minutes struggling to get off of under the rubbish resting on top of her, the wall she’d collided with now reduced to nothing but big, desultory rocks. Paranoia lets out a huff of breath, smirk twisting on her lips as her right hand flies to press against the shallow wound made on the side of her torso, mind swirling in a rush.

“That thing was…” she chuckles in half-pain and her voice dies down, but the realization is extremely vivid inside her head.

She licks her lips and the smile grows. Arching her back, the small sound of her bones snapping is interrupted by the purple glow of a butterfly in front of her face. Paranoia scowls as the man’s voice resonates through her head, seemingly impatient.

“Would you be so kind to tell me what that was?” Hawk Moth blurts, and she’s almost sure she’d heard him stomping his foot on the ground like some sort of petulant child.

“If I knew, they’d be defeated already,” she says with a grimace.

A brief moment of silence hangs between them, and Paranoia realizes her mistake far too late. Before she has the opportunity to emend her wording, however, Hawk Moth speaks up first.

“‘ _They_ ’?” his tone is careful, accusatory.

She swallows and keeps her voice idle, “Never mind.”

Moving the giant arms on her back, Paranoia sends flying the last couple of rocks out of her way, letting out a frustrated sigh in the process. She wriggles her fingers and finds great satisfaction with the quiet _clicks_ her claws make when brushing against one another, licking her lips as her blue eyes look around – since she’s so far away from her current objective, Paranoia might as well make it worth her while, eyes scanning the park for a new victim.

And it is with great displeasure she finds herself being interrupted again.

“Why don’t you pay me a visit?” Hawk Moth says, and the butterfly in front of her face would be incredibly annoying if his words weren’t so distracting. “I’d like to request something from you.”

It sounds almost like a joke, too good to be true.

Until he whispers an address.

Her discreet smile doubles its length and she feels a few shades too smug. Moving the strings to attach themselves in the spider arms, Paranoia launches herself through the air so she can move faster to her destination.

“Right away,” she simply says.

It isn’t long after when she finally comes across the observatory, entering his hideout quietly despite the heels of her shoes tapping gently against the steps of the long staircase. The vision she’s graced with is almost poetic, and the urge to rush her initial plans is almost unbearable; still, Paranoia keeps the smile plastered on her face, trying to avoid stepping on the concerning number of butterflies scattered around the floor.

He opens his arms theatrically, devious smirk on his lips.

“Welcome,” he says.

Paranoia bows in respect – flattery can never be too little, especially when the man on the top has such a troublesome ego.

Hawk Moth extends her the hand that isn’t holding the flashy cane, then. “Let me have a closer look at you, my dear.”

She raises her head, walks slowly in his direction and crosses claws behind her back, keeping them away from him not only to seem harmless but also to ease temptation. The man takes a hold of her chin, moving her face around in a few random angles and giving a nod of approbation.

“No doubt you were chosen as Ladybug,” he says, voice full of pride as he lets her go. “You’re talented, and have a very strong spirit.”

The girl bows again, gratitude in a low whisper that she’s hopeful he’ll catch. Hawk Moth isn’t scary as she first believed he would, but then again, Paranoia isn’t sure if a butterfly-man could be exactly frightening in any way; he’s powerful, yes, but his appearance is lack menace.

Or maybe the fact she’d caught her own reflection in the river earlier had destroyed all her common sense regarding what could be considered _scary_.

No wonder Parisians seemed terrified of the mere sight of her.

She’s smiling in full satisfaction, musing all possible ways to trick the remaining pieces of her plan into coming together. If Hawk Moth had gone to the extent on inviting her to a visit _in person_ it could only mean he was becoming impatient, which left her with increasingly less time to gather the final… _Component_ to the mix. If possible, she wanted to be done with it today.

Revenge was _exciting_ , and she wasn’t exactly the patient type.

“I’ll be honest,” and his voice awakes her from the savory daydream; Paranoia gently files the thought away for another time and directs her full attention to him. The man had spun on his heel, short steps leading him closer to the strangely-shaped window at the top of the room. “All whom I akumatize in the city are mere puppets— Pawns, if you will.” He turns again, raising a hand to beckon her elegant figure. “But _you_?”

She approaches him again, taking a look through the large glass. He had a perfect view from the city from there, and she mused how many of their fights Hawk Moth had watched first-hand.

“You, my dear Paranoia, will grant me what I desire. Never before I’ve been this close to victory, which is why I’d like to offer you an opportunity.”

The girl frowns and turns to watch him closely, face twisting in obvious suspicion as she says, “ _Another_?”

Hawk Moth hums quietly and nods. “The price over your current state is still running, for I must have the Miraculous Stones to achieve my final goal,” and she almost pries further in an attempt to gather more information, but his speech continues, preventing her from doing so. “But I have something akin to a request— You must bring me the mayor and his daughter, along with the person who runs the Ladyblog, and _execute_ them.”

Paranoia grows hesitant, almost uncertain. The deal doesn’t look much different from the obedience she supposedly gave away to him, but she guesses he’s trying to achieve different and multiple things through a single action, which hardly can go any well for him.

This is exactly why she allows herself to toy with the option.

“And what is in there for me?” she prompts.

“I’ll turn you into this game’s _queen_ , and then, you’ll have whomever you want,” he offers.

Her eyes gleam. The smile tugs menacingly at the edges as she rolls her shoulders.

“I should probably go on a hunt, then.”

 

 

Plagg and Tikki lead him to an old, eastern-styled house. Adrien opens his mouth to complain, strength now fully restored and brain working well enough to know the situation to be very suspicious. But an old man with a red floral shirt opens the front door, his brow furrowed in what seems to be deep concern. The boy swallows back his words, taking his appearance in; he looks oddly familiar, yes, but from _where_ —

“Master Fu,” Tikki leaves his pocket and calls out to the stranger.

His own kwami joins her, green eyes closing as he nods in respect. Adrien purses his lips and tries not to freak out because _Plagg is lowering his head to someone, oh my God_. The boy blinks once, twice, and suddenly said stranger is splashed with a wave of clarity.

He’s the old man who was in front of the school building, and if the kwami’s reaction is anything to go by, they’re at least old acquaintances.

“Please, do come in,” Fu says.

A few awkward introductions later, the elder leads them through the house, stopping by what seems to be a living room, reaching for the tea set on the old-looking chest of drawers by the farthest wall. Even as he brews them tea, no words are exchanged between them; even as a green kwami joins them in the room, Adrien’s eyes widening in shock, nobody words a single thought. Fu pours them the steaming drink, a sweet aroma filling the space they’re in, only to sit down and take a few sips from his own mug.

The boy swallows again, feeling incapable of stomaching anything at the moment. He breathes in, and then out – _slowly_.

“Can you please tell me what’s going on?” he asks, looking very much on edge.

“Patience, my son,” it’s the elder’s answer.

Adrien frowns, feeling the stress dangerously close of spilling out of him. He shouldn’t be here. He should be tracking Paranoia down, figuring out a way to take the hair brooch and make things go back as to what they were before; it won’t make his guilt (or his _blame_ , for that matter) go away, but at least will keep Marinette from doing thing Marinette would definitely beat herself over for.

If, even as a Miraculous Holder, she was available to be effectively akumatized, who could possibly guarantee she really won’t remember the things she’d done? The things she’ll still do?

He had seen her up close. He had seen a few of her tricks.

_‘What if she hurts someone?’_

Then, it’s all on him, in a way or another.

But, instead of voicing every single of his gruesome worries, Adrien simply gets on his feet and says, “ _I shouldn’t be here_.”

Fu raises his hand, and it’s all that keeps him from turning on his heel and leaving the house right away.

“This is exactly where you’re supposed to be,” he says, placing his mug back to the saucer. “A fight in the dark is fruitless.”

The meaning of the man’s words is completely lost in Adrien. They’re useless. They don’t provide understanding. His breath hitches and he wants to snap, but the boy knows there’s something of utmost importance he’s gravely failing to grasp, and despite the storm inside his heart and the seemingly eternal confused state of his mind, there’s something Adrien knows for sure.

This man in front of him, yes, this man wants to _help_.

And so, he takes a seat once more.

Fu smiles sadly and nods, and it goes without saying it was the right decision to make.

“There are special akuma that, for a reason or another, become more dangerous than the usual ones. One of them killed you, once,” he starts, looking at the group of kwami beside him. “But Ladybug made a choice, and became vulnerable as a result— Now, when Miraculous Holders become akumatized for a reason or another, they usually develop powers that go even further than the special ones’.”

Adrien nods back, simply to state he’s listening carefully. Plagg approaches him, silent, and sits on his shoulder. His warmth offers great comfort, and the boy is immensely grateful for it.

“It differs from each case, but considering the peculiarities of your partner’s new alter ego, I’d advise to act cautiously. It might be right to assume she’ll become a strong and important puppet that is bound to play a bigger role in the full picture,” Adrien makes a confused face, so Fu elaborates further. “Well, considering she can easily make the King’s work much easier.”

“The ‘ _King_ ’?” he asks.

“Hawk Moth,” the elder answers, his tone matter-of-factly. “Either way, Paranoia is dangerous not only for being an akumatized Miraculous Holder, but also because she’ll easily have the aide of every single akumatized person in Paris.”

“Which is why we need to be quick,” Adrien says.

He dismisses it with a wave of his head, “Which is why we need to be _smart_.”

The boy purses his lips, hands trembling against his knees.

“But— But we’ll make it, right?” he prompts, voice wavering. “Everything will turn out alright, and— And Marinette will be okay, _right_?”

“Paranoia is far more powerful than Ladybug was, I’m afraid.” The elder gets up from his seat, bringing his steaming mug with him. He walks in slow steps towards the window, eyes searching. “You are gravely mistaken if you think light can best darkness in all conflicts— Sometimes, a shadow can easily swallow up any amount of hope, but…” he turns back to the boy, hopeful smile playing on his lips. Tikki flies to his side, his wrinkly hand going up to touch her red paw endearingly. “ _Fortunately_ , this is the kind of enemy who is conquered through teamwork.”

Adrien sighs, “Which is why we need to be smart.”

Fu’s smile widens.

But it suddenly goes away.

“ _Which is why_ ,” he starts, voice twisting in something akin to grief. “You have a very important, very difficult decision to make.”

The boy frowns, the sudden and strange emotion hanging in the air making his heart feel constricted. He almost tells Fu to continue, but realizes his voice is lost for good. The man seems to catch on to the fact, for he simply breathes in deeply and continues with his explanation.

“To let the river run its course, or intervene in their battle for dominance,” he muses, almost quietly. “To risk an important life, or many others - which might as well include everyone else.”

All things considered, and even as confused as Adrien is, it isn’t very difficult to guess what the elder kept hidden between the lines; if anything he’d said so far is anything to go by, Paranoia is easily as powerful as Hawk Moth, if not more. With such strong people on top, if he chooses to put himself in harm’s way, lots of people can be hurt. Plus, Chat Noir and Adrien Agreste are a set of one, meaning he is Paranoia’s _final goal_ – who can say what will happen once she puts her hands in everyone she’s been looking for?

It is also easy to say the single life who will be in danger in case he chooses to step back is either Paranoia or Hawk Moth. Adrien feels reluctant on picking a side because of Marinette’s well-being, but if there’s a possibility she’ll take the main villain down, then _maybe_ he should take the risk, but…

Why does it feel _wrong_?

The boy purses his lips, hesitant. He looks Plagg's way for guidance, but when the kwami stares back at him, reticent, Adrien doesn't find any.

So he turns to Fu, a sad expression taking over his features.

“I—” his voice cracks, so he starts again. “I will… I’ll wait.”

Master Fu nods, looking away with a heavy sigh. “If the king is replaced, I shall join you in your fight to serve as a distraction. In case any other action is needed, like choosing someone else as Ladybug to be your partner, we will decide later on.”

Tikki lets out a tiny squeal from across the room. Adrien frowns and tries not to think about what the statement truly implies. 

“And what if the King keeps a hold to his position?” he mutters, chest being filled with shame at the weakness in his voice.

The elder doesn’t look back to him, and Adrien is filled with doubt once again.

“The Queen won't allow him,” he simply says.

 

 

Hawk Moth’s peace is invariably disturbed once more when Paranoia’s heels start clicking against the steps of the stairs that lead to the wide room. When he looks back, a satisfied smile plays on his lips, for she carries the squirming and seemingly terrified Bourgeois-father with her spider limbs, the man’s both hands and feet are tied down and his face is entirely covered in spider web except for the small holes for the man’s nostrils.

She throws the package on the floor, a somewhat blank smirk coloring her features as her hand beckons to him in disdain, “Here you go.”

The man hums in approval, “And the other two?”

Paranoia quirks a brow, but doesn’t make a move.

“I’ve got them,” she says. “They’re important pieces to my… Puzzle, after all.”

The man frowns, face scrunching in something akin to confusion and anger. “I told you to bring them here,” he says.

“They’re _mine_ ,” and her voice sounds twice as harsh.

Hawk Moth’s laughter is twisted, wicked.

“To think you could easily bring others to believe you’re keeping them from harm; that you’re trying to protect those traitors, those who pretended to be your friends, the family who’d rather avoid you than try to help.” Her face still holds a small, amused smile as he speaks, looking very much like a kid who’s being reprimanded after being caught trying to be a smart-ass. She shrugs in a way that screams ‘ _Guilty_ ’ and he scoffs at her lack of finesse. “I know what you’ll do to them once I have no assignments for you, my dear. You do represent a sickening species of predator, after all— Letting your meal sitting around until their flesh is soft enough for you to—”

“If you have nothing else for me to do, I’ll take my leave,” she quickly interrupts.

“You are powerful,” he muses. “You could do so much more than that.”

“Are you trying to convince me the very reason for why I am currently by your side is _invalid_?” she asks in a rough voice.

Something is let hanging in the air; a silent threat, nonetheless paper-thin. It makes him uncomfortable, despite knowing she holds no power against him; he knows his statement sounds contradictory, however. He had akumatized her using the sole reason of revenge, and then suddenly claims she could do greater things? Even to his ears, it didn’t sound exactly smart.

“Not invalid, no,” he clears his throat. “Small. Non-ambitious. _Weak_.”

She rolls her eyes, scoffing, turning on her heel to leave his sight. But his face twists in great displeasure, making a purple butterfly appear on both his face and hers.

“Paranoia,” he snaps, raising his voice, tone demanding and almost accusatory. “You are to stay by my side, to obey my orders. Bring me Chloé Bourgeois and Alya Césarie in this instant!”

The girl freezes in place, and for a moment Hawk Moth is filled with a powerful feeling; he’s mentally preparing his speech on how she’ll understand later on of how their alliance is important and what not, but when she slowly turns her head so he catches a small portion of her complexion, Paranoia’s expression doesn’t go with someone who’s being submitted to one’s power. Now, she isn’t like any other akumatized puppet he’d ever had before.

Paranoia looks frightening, _murderous_.

Dread washes over him, as well as a painful realization—

She’s not under his control.

“Y-You…” is nothing but a whisper.

Her sickening smile widens and her body turns fully to him. Hawk Moth takes a few steps back, letting out a desperate huff of breath as he looks around, trying to think of _anything_ to get out of the situation. He had bared himself still believing he was in control, and having a free spirit being very much against him right on his face wasn’t exactly the safest route to achieve his final goal. In a desperate act, he moves his cane angrily, and a large portion of the white butterflies lying around fly to attack her.

It is never that easy, but somehow he shouldn’t have expected it to end any other way; Paranoia jumps lightly to the side and easily dodges his attack. When he sends another wave, she raises her arms, playing with her strings like one would play cat’s cradle, cutting all of the butterflies in multiple pieces.

The action is like receiving a direct blow to his chest, and he is surprised to realize that was to be _expected_.

More than ever, he is cornered.

As for many times he’d made _Marinette_ feel exactly so, if he remembers well.

Her train of thought seems to be going the exact same way, for when their eyes lock, she smiles in understanding at him, like a true spider watching her prey being caught in the web and squirming for dear life.

But he has a last move to resort to.

His mind travels to all others currently akumatized in Paris; he might not be able to control Paranoia, but he sure can get a hold of everyone else – some of them are even close enough to come to his aide, fortunately. Hawk Moth opens his mouth, the order clear inside his mind. But right when he part his lips, her arms turn and her claws shine, the menacing strings circling around his neck in a strong grip.

He gasps in horror and thinks about moving, but even _breathing_ seems to make everything go on verge of collapsing around him, his life now very much on her reckless, slippery hands.

The silence stretches among them, but he manages to find his voice.

“You wouldn’t dare,” he breathes hesitantly.

Paranoia gives a small shrug as if to say ‘ _Wanna bet?_ ’ that makes his stomach drops because he knows as well as she does that there isn’t a single thing she’s got to lose with that. He tries to swallow his fear, hands fumbling against the strings bruising his skin.

“Don’t do this,” he mumbles. “You’ll regret it, I swear!”

“Oh, _boo-hoo_ ,” her voice lowers in a threatening sing-song, a playful smirk on her face as her tone equals one she’d use to importune a child, fingers itching to finally get to action. “I don’t think so.”

He’s done for, then.

“You useless little _brat_ ,” and she bares her teeth to him in a twisted smile as his voice resonates through the room, enjoying the way his true colors light the place for the first time in her presence, and for the last opportunity in his lifetime. “Do you have _any idea_ of _who I am_ —?!”

And with a swift pull of the strings attached to the sharp claws, the skin and flesh and bone are ripped apart, blood is shed, the now lifeless weight of the man’s body falling limp on the ground; his unattached head rolls through the floor, the Miraculous transformation wearing off in a _flash_ of purple that does very little to Paranoia’s for once cold expression.

Her eyes flicker momentarily to the man’s face, now bare without his strange and luminous mask, blood oozing from his parted mouth. The girl now twists her lips in something akin to disappointment, a tinge of sadness – _perhaps?_

“Pity,” and she turns on her heel, the easy smile back to her face.

Paranoia had more important preys to hunt, after all.

 

 

Master Fu has a violent jolt that shakes him awake. At the same time, Tikki lets out a desperate gasp, followed by a few broken sobs. Plagg does nothing but to give gentle taps her against back and Adrien’s eyes widen in confusion, heart jumping to his throat as the small sounds coming from the red kwami push him into awareness once more. They had fallen asleep on the couch; despite everyone being pretty much on edge, the emotional wreck had left them worn off to the bone, and if the very dim natural light coming from outside was anything to go by, they had been out for a couple of hours.

“What happened?” the boy asks.

The elder turns to Wayzz, the green kwami. “The dark energy…”

His companion nods, reticent. “Has increased, yes.”

“And the akumatized civilians?” Fu prompts. There’s a heavy sigh, and Wayzz dismisses it with a wave of his head. The man lets out an exasperate huff of breath as well, hanging his head. “I deeply feared for this outcome.”

“ _What happened_?” Adrien presses again.

Fu pinches the bridge of his nose and frowns, as if to shake what’s left of his fatigue away.

“Most akuma were tied to Paranoia, since their state was primarily caused by her powers. So despite the fact Hawk Moth has been defeated, a great number of the akumatized civilians kept bind to her, like some sort of collateral effect…”

The boy gapes at him, eyes wide.

“Hawk Moth was _defeated_?”           

Fu grunts, seemingly discontent.

“Not in a very noble way, I’m afraid.”

Adrien gasps, “ _What_ —”

“What about Nooroo?” Plagg interrupts.

The elder makes a noncommittal noise with the back of his throat, getting up from the couch with a painful grunt.

“Nooroo will find their way to us, eventually.”

Adrien’s breath hitches, “And _Marinette_?” he asks, feeling outraged absolutely no one had mentioned what had actually happened to her yet. Hawk Moth had been put down, yes, _but what about Marinette—?!_

“The logic was that, if the man on the top was to be finally defeated, the evil energy would lessen, but… I believe your friend is still there. Somehow.”

He frowns, pursing his lips. “What do you mean?”

Fu sighs, and Wayzz moves to speak in his behalf, but the elder raises a hand a shakes his head. He seems drained, extremely tired – more than Adrien, even, which is truly very surprising, considering it’s his friend who’s currently tearing the city down, and he’s partially to blame for all this mess.

“The consciousness of Marinette Dupain-Cheng is still partially awaken within Paranoia,” he says. “And the fact she effectively killed someone is making the darkness surround her further.”

“… What?” he breathes weakly.

“We must act right away. If she allows herself to be dragged in this mess, then we might as well be dealing with a new high-level, long-term enemy.”

He can’t move.

Adrien can’t think, can’t speak, can’t do anything for dear life.

No person had been conscious while evilized before; they didn’t _remember_ what they had done while akumatized. And if Marinette is even slightly aware of what she’s doing, albeit being out of control, he can only imagine how she’s feeling right now.

Abandoned. Scared. Guilty.

Adrien feels hurt and impossibly lost, but he has no right, abolutely _no right_ to feel like this.

Tikki squeaks again, voice coming in a shudder as she says, “She’s… She’s moving, b-but— Something’s wrong.”

Fu nods in response, “We must leave. I’ll distract the akumatized civilians who try to interrupt you, bur regarding your fight against Paranoia…”

The atmosphere feels heavy and silence stretches.

Adrien breathes in deeply and nods. “I’ll deal with it, somehow.”

 

 

The world outside has been turned upside down before; it’s Paris we’re talking about, after all. There had been akuma of all kinds, destroying things at their own will, but it’s difficult to remember a time when things had gone this far.

A concerning number of people were akumatized, and the ones who weren’t, were being put under the akuma’s powers. Very few citizens remained untouched, all hiding inside their homes or the shops they were currently in when things started to go to hell. The screams and pleas for mercy became something so natural around the city that the sound was almost turning into white noise in the distance – something common, ordinary.

It was absolutely _wonderful_.

Because now the few sane ones remaining were drowning in fear; each corner they dared to face had them swimming around in their own _paranoia_.

And as the very impersonation of said feeling, she felt delighted.

An hour later, all her preparations were ready. She’d make sure to destroy all source of light in her parent’s bakery, even if that wouldn’t do much for the current subject of her cat-and-mouse game – but, well, she guesses all effort is valid, if it means to set the _mood_ right.

All exits were still blocked, the cocoons she had previously left at school were now carefully placed around her own room. In total, Paranoia had gathered eighteen people – her parents, Alya, Manon and her mother, one of her teachers, the Director of her school and _most_ of her classmates.

Which brought her to the name of the list which hadn’t been crossed off yet.

Paranoia had been intentionally avoiding thinking about her most recent discovery, but now that she had the time to dwell her most obscure thoughts, it all kind of made much sense now.

Adrien’s worry; Chat Noir’s sudden visits; his useless attempts on making her feel better.

Their façade.

Their lies, their empty promises.

… _His_.

 _His_ façade.

 _His_ lies, _his_ empty promises.

The cat and the boy became one inside her head.

And suddenly, her undying hatred and obsession also made more sense.

_Because Adrien Agreste is Chat Noir._

There’s small noises everywhere, then. Quiet _taps_ against the floor and hollow screeches being chanted on the corridors of her broken home. Paranoia offers her company a smile, caressing the edge of the cocoon next to her absent-mindedly.

“I know you’re all feeling impatient,” she muses.

The girl walks slowly around the room, looking to the dark corners and being careful to not step too close to her new friends – she doesn’t want to scare them away, after all.

Because _trust_ is all a team has.

And she knows this very well, so as the dozens and hundreds and maybe _thousands_ of spiders of all sizes start to gather around her, Paranoia makes extra effort to seem welcoming, their company being all too comforting.

She turns on her heel, then, going up the stairs of her room.

“Don’t worry, the last traitor will be with us soon,” she breathes.

Paranoia chuckles and walks next to the bed veiled in dull-pink, approaching the biggest poster of Adrien she could encounter up in the bedroom’s walls. The iron-clad finger sinks into the picture, opening a small hole right into his face and coming down, ripping his complexion apart in a violent jerk of her hand.

“And I’ll be ready for you, _Chaton_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ouch.
> 
> Okay, now, before you decide to lynch me out of the galaxy, since I haven't written down the next part yet, I'd like to know: should I be as cruel as I can be, or it would be for the best to hold off a little? The ending is already planned, but this decision will change certain aspects of the story so I'd like to leave this up to you guys. 
> 
> The option with more thumbs up will be taken as the final word. 8)
> 
> I'll see you later!


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